No Sunlight
by trellyasigma
Summary: Pavel Chekov thought that he'd finally settled into life at the Academy (he even has a best friend in a certain pilot named Sulu) until a series of devastating events changes everything that he thought he knew, and suddenly there seems to be no sunlight anymore. Academy fic, does NOT allign with Bourbon and Vodka. NO slash. Title inspired by No Sunlight by Death Cab for Cutie.
1. One: When I was Young Lying in the Grass

**_One: When I was Young, Lying in the Grass_**

 **"Are you sure you'll be alright?"** Three people were at the mostly abandoned shuttle station on the outskirts of Moscow, Russia. The speaker was a tall woman with dark hair that brushed her chin and large, golden-green eyes. She was beautiful, even in her forties. Her words were spoken, obviously, in Russian. Her voice was clear as birdsong, yet at the same time thick with tears.

The second person, a man, shook his head. **"Natalya, you're going to hold him back. Pasha is smart; he is strong; he will be fine."** He was also tall, and fairly thin, but he had strangely wide shoulders and a proud expression on his face. He had golden hair that curled in random directions, spiraling off his head into the freezing air of Russia. **"Won't you, Pasha?"**

The third person was a boy, no older than thirteen. He had the angular, awkward look of someone who's grown a large amount in a short period of time, which was exaggerated by the fact he'd been small and skinny to begin with. He had his mother's beautiful gold-green eyes, and his father's unruly golden curls. **"Yes, Papa."** He said, though his face clearly showed his fear. **"I will be fine."**

His father looked at his son with a fierce pride that made Pasha's cheeks flush slightly. **"I am very proud of you, my son."** He said, and the boy realized the man's voice was now thick with tears as well. **"We will miss you."**

 **"You'll write? And you'll holo us?"** Natalya said in a desperate voice, looking as though her world were about to shatter into pieces. Her eyes were swimming with tears, her hands shaking as she clutched her purse to pull out a handkerchief of some sort. She only did this when she was very upset, as she was now.

Her son noticed this and was quick to reassure her. **"Of course, Mama. I'll write, I promise. I won't abandon you. If they let me, I'll come back for Christmas."** He noticed his mother's face brighten, and he knew that he'd do anything to make sure he did, indeed, come home for Christmas. His mother had always been a bit delicate, and he didn't want her to fall apart.

 **"And your English? You're sure it's good enough**?" His mother said, her eyes searching his desperately.

He smiled. **"Mama, I am practically fluent. I will be okay, I promise."**

His mother shook her head, and pressed her hand to his cheek. **"But your accent… everyone says it's hard to understand… are you sure you don't want to wait a year or two? Get your English better, go to a good Russian school…"**

 **"Mama…"** He said sadly, staring at his mother with an odd expression. **"I must."**

A man walked up to the three. He was rather large, with a mustache and thinning hair. He hated to break up such a tearful good-bye, but he was the pilot, and had to take off in ten minutes, and all his passengers needed to be on board, even if it was only one passenger, like today. It only made it worse that he knew the family well. He and the boy's father were good friends, they used to work together, and now he had to take his son from him. **"Pavel, I'm sorry, but you need to get on the shuttle."**

 **"Already?"** The boy said, his carefully controlled emotions beginning to rock unsteadily in his chest. He swallowed thickly, trying to stop the tears of anxiety burning in his eyes. If he cried, then his mother would be undone, and couldn't bear it if he made her cry.

 **"Vladislav, please."** Begged Pavel's father.

The pilot shook his head sadly. **"I am sorry, Andrei, I have no choice."**

What little happiness there had been in such a tearful goodbye evaporated, and Natalya Chekov burst into tears. **"We love you, Pasha. Remember that."** She sobbed, before burying her head in Andrei's shoulder. Her husband began to console her as Pavel turned to walk with the pilot to the shuttle, where he'd leave behind everything he'd ever known in his short life to go to the Academy.

He turned back the moment before he walked on. **"Goodbye."** He said.

His mother was crying too hard to reply, but his father raised his hand in farewell, love for his son burning in his eyes. **"Goodbye, Pasha. Goodbye, my son."** The boy turned and walked onto the shuttle. The doors closed behind him, and Vladislav the pilot took off.

The moment the shuttle was out of sight, Natalya's tears began to subside. **"He's only thirteen, Andrei."** She wailed. **"He's just a child, and they're all adults. He's going to be killed!"**

 **"Shh, shh…"** He soothed, stroking his wife's dark brown hair, and eventually he felt her relax as all the tears left her. **"He will be okay. He'll come back for Christmas and be right as rain, you'll see."**

Natalya, though done crying, was still incredibly upset. She did not pull away from her husband, simply allowed him to hold her in the time she needed him. **"But, Andrei…"** She said quietly. **"What if** ** _he_** **is there, what if he finds him? What if no one is there to protect him?"**

Andrei Chekov was silent. He'd considered the possibility, of course, but every time he considered it, all the possible outcomes ended in his only child being horrifically wounded or killed. He knew that in order to make sure this didn't happen, he'd have to do something he'd promised himself he'd never do. **"He won't get Pasha, Natalya."** He said darkly. **"I swear on my life, I will die before my son does."**

For a moment, Natalya remained silent. She knew what he would do to protect Pavel, and she knew how dangerous that beast of a man was. **"I don't want you to die, either, Andrei. You and Pasha… you are my world. If I lose you…"**

 **"You will not lose me, Natalya."** Andrei promised firmly. He pulled away slightly and looked into her eyes, noting the fear and sorrow in them, and wishing he could make all that fear go away forever. She deserved a happy, peaceful life, not this uncertainty. **"You will not lose either of us. This, I promise."**

Hikaru Sulu stared at the PADD in front of him, trying to calm his roiling nerves. After years of waiting, anticipating, the time had come for him to make the journey from his home in small-town Indiana to San Francisco, where the Star Fleet Academy was located.

The pressure for him to do well was unbelievable. His grandmother was born and raised in Japan, and she had lectured him constantly about family honor. When he'd expressed interest in flying, she had latched onto the idea and made sure he did everything perfectly to achieve the goal she'd set for him; be the best pilot Star Fleet had ever seen.

That was all fine, and Hikaru _did_ want to be the best pilot Star Fleet had ever seen, but his grandmother was threatening him with disownment if he failed. She'd never said it outright, but it was heavily implied. That sort of pressure was the kind he'd never done well with, and he was worried that he'd fail her.

Not to mention the fact that he was worried whether he and his roommate would get along. What would they be like? More importantly, what if they hated him? Hikaru wasn't the type to trust easily or quickly draw in friends. He had to work long and hard to get any, and even then they usually abandoned him at the first chance. He hoped that his roommate would need a friend, too, and that they could maybe have each other.

The shuttle he was on jolted slightly as it hit some turbulence, and the PADD fell out of his hands and onto the floor. It shattered. Hikaru groaned and let his head fall into his hands. He'd need to buy a new one with his meager supply of credits before the school year started. Without the higher-quality personal one that most students had, he'd be unable to holo his grandmother to update her on his progress. She wouldn't be amused by that, and he'd be disowned for sure.

Noticing a flight attendant nearby, he motioned for her to come over. "How long until we land?" He asked casually.

"Not for another hour, sir." She said apologetically.

He sighed. It was going to be a long flight. "Damn. Ah, well, I'll just take a nap, then." He said, trying not to express the worry he was feeling. He seemed to succeed, as the attendant chuckled rather than look at him pityingly.

"Good idea, sir." She said with a laugh.

He smiled wryly, and leaned his head back against the rest. He closed his eyes, trying to will sleep upon him. His head seemed to come up with thousands of other things he'd rather be doing, then thousands of things he could do wrong at the Academy. Eventually, however, his mind managed to relax enough to allow him to fall asleep.

The next thing he knew, he was being shaken awake. "Sir, we've landed." It was the flight attendant. She looked slightly amused that the landing hadn't woken him. Honestly, Sulu was surprised. He hadn't realized how heavy of a sleeper he was.

Hikaru dragged himself out of the chair, and bent down to pick up the broken pieces of PADD. After collecting them, he straightened. The last of the passengers were leaving the shuttle, looking as though they'd just been woken from naps themselves. He bid a polite farewell to the woman and hurried after them, trying to look casual and not as though he'd almost missed getting off the shuttle.

When he looked around, he saw they'd landed at a massive shuttle station, with dozens of shuttles carrying new recruits were landing. New Cadets were everywhere, making the walk to the Academy itself, where they'd be given a formal welcome and their room assignments. As he passed each shuttle, he noticed the writing on the landing pad that told where it came from. Most came from this country, but some were from all around the world.

He passed one labeled "Riverside, Iowa." He smirked. _Iowa._ What good came from Iowa?

Two men walked out from the shuttle. One looked to be in his early thirties, and rather ill. The other was young, with a busted lip, and appeared to be covered in poorly-cleaned up vomit.

"I mean, when you said you'd throw up on me, I thought you were joking!" The young blonde one complained, staring ruefully at his shirt. He looked like the type who'd been born and raised in the town and had only joined after some careful words by the recruitment officer.

The older one scowled. "Well, it's not my fault ya didn't listen." Sulu blinked in mild surprise. He was Southern, with a strong twangy accent that was definitely not something you'd normally find in Iowa. Vaguely he wondered why this man had been in Iowa of all places.

"Jesus, Bones, you need to get over this if you're going to surive Star Fleet." The young man complained.

"I'm a doctor, dammit! We don't belong in space!" He paused. "Bones?"

"Your new nickname." Explained the young man.

'Bones' glared daggers at his companion, looking like he was regretting something. "No. Absolutely not, you're not calling me Bones."

The man chuckled, and slapped 'Bones' on the back. "Ah, you'll warm up to it eventually."

The two continued bickering, but Hikaru tuned them out. He was focusing on one of the shuttles a ways ahead of them. It read "Moscow, Russia." Moscow? That was incredibly unusual. Russia sent precious few Cadets, for some reason none of them quite understood. Some claimed it was old relations remaining, but Hikaru doubted it. _He'd_ always wondered if the Russians had some place of their own for those interested to go to.

The doors opened, and two people walked out. One was a man with a large mustache and thinning hair. He was clearly a pilot, judging by his age and his uniform. That in itself was unusual, the pilots didn't usually leave the shuttle. Then he noticed the second person. It was a boy, no more than twelve or thirteen, with curly golden hair and big green eyes.

The two were talking in Russian, and seemed to be saying goodbye to each other. The pilot hugged the boy tightly, and when he pulled away he ruffled the boy's hair and gently shoved him into the crowd of Cadets. He walked stiffly, as if every step he expected some sort of opposition, some sort of retribution.

Hikaru could tell that this boy was a genius, quite probably smarter than all of them, and he had a feeling that this young boy was destined to do great things. Looking closer at the boy's back, he noted the tension in his shoulders, and the way he looked at his feet, and realized that he was terrified. Sure, Sulu was _frightened_ , but this boy was petrified at what the world had in store for him. He felt bad for the kid. He didn't seem to realize the great things that would certainly happen because of him.

Suddenly Hikaru realized that he'd unconsciously sped up and ran into the poor kid. He winced and slowed down. "Jesus, sorry, kid." He said as the boy turned to face him. He really was so young, he realized. He didn't deserve what bad things he was bound to go through. "Sorry." He repeated stupidly.

The kid smirked a little at his embarrassment. "Ees alright." His accent was thick, and honestly adorable to hear from such a small boy.

Hikaru realized next that they were almost to the building where someone would give them the welcome speech. Then they were filing into the room, sitting on the seats. To his left was the kid, to his right the Southern man, Bones, and his friend ( _maybe_ his friend; they'd argued the entire way there).

"Welcome, new Cadets, to Star Fleet Academy." Boomed the voice from the front of the room. He was middle-aged, with greying hair and a generally kind face. Sulu liked him instantly; he'd always been good at reading people, and he could tell this was a great man. "I am Captain Christopher Pike, and I'm also the current head of recruitment for Star Fleet. I'm here to welcome you all." He paused. "This group is full of Cadets of all races of humans, and many other species from around the Federation. You are of all sizes, and of all ages." He glanced over to where Hikaru was sitting, and realized Pike was looking at the Russian kid. "You all have the potential to be someone who changes the world. I suggest you embrace that potential."

Sulu glanced at where 'Bones' and the blonde-haired young man were sitting. The young man looked rather uncomfortable, like he thought the words were directed at him. "Well, I'm not going to keep you here all day. I just have one word of warning." Pike glanced around at the Cadets as though he were trying to figure out their hearts. "You have the ability to be great. Don't forget that you can't do it alone. Greatness is acheived when we all work together. If we are all apart, the only thing that can be achieved is death." He paused again. The room was hanging on his every word. "Alright, that's it for me. Make your way to the front of the room, and you'll get your room assignments."

Pike walked out of the room. For a long moment, there was silence. Then the murmer of voices sounded again as everyone began to discuss what he'd said. Next to him, the young man who'd been vomited on was speaking. "I mean, it's bad enough he used my father to guilt trip me into enlisting, but now he's sending me a message in the damn welcome speech?"

Bones shook his head. "I don't think he was talking _just_ to you, Jim."

The young man— Jim— scowled. "If he is, I'm going to be pissed."

After what seemed like hours, Hikaru had finally made his way to the front of the room. The Russian kid had vanished into the crowd, using his small stature to get to the front quickly. He walked up to the harsh-looking woman before him. "Name?" She said, not bothering to look up from her list.

"Hikaru Sulu." He replied, trying to sound as though he wasn't scared out of his mind and actually knew what the hell he was doing.

The woman smirked into her list as though she knew _exactly_ what he was trying to do, and scanned for his name. "Command Center, third floor, room 323. Roomate is a Pavel Chekov." She said, handed him a key, and then shouted "Next!"

As Hikaru left he could hear the young blonde man from before saying "Um, James T. Kirk." Briefly Sulu realized that Kirk must mean he was the son of the famous George who saved hundreds of people at the cost of his own life in the Kelvin Incident years before. Then he decided that he honestly didn't want to be the person to walk up to him and tell him he should be as good as his father, so instead he grabbed the map the woman had offered him and went off to find Command Center.

After receiving his room assignment in Command Center, Pavel Chekov found his way fairly quickly. He found himself wondering about his roommate— Hikaru Sulu. Who was he? What was he like? He hoped that the man would be friendly, wouldn't treat him as though he were stupid just because he was so young.

He reached room 323 a few minutes later. Like all the other doors, it was made of plain wood painted black, with the numbers painted on over the black in peeling gold paint. He stuck the key in the keyhole and opened the door.

The room was simple. White painted walls bare of accessory, two beds (both twin sized), two small desks (he was relieved he wouldn't have to share), two small dressers and one side table in-between the beds. They had a walk-in bathroom, which Pavel was pleased about. He didn't want to use a communal bathroom at thirteen years of age with a few dozen adults.

He sat down on the bed nearest the door. He wanted to avoid the window if possible. Maybe if he didn't look outside he could forget the horrid California heat worse than anything he'd ever experienced, forget the lack of snow and ice all year round, forget that he wasn't home in Russia. Of course, he knew that not looking outside would make absolutely no difference, but it gave him the feeling he could still do _something_ , and it calmed him down slightly.

Pavel was jolted from his thoughts by someone knocking on the door as they opened it. He looked around, and realized that it was the young man who'd run into him earlier and had apologized twice. He'd ended up sitting next to him during the short welcome speech, too. He felt himself relax. When he'd first seen him, his first impression was that this was a man who could be trusted.

The man, Hikaru Sulu, was of Japanese descent, and had handsome dark eyes and neat black hair. He looked surprised, and then he smiled. It was a genuine smile that filled up his face, and Pavel felt another surge of liking toward this man.

"Hikaru Sulu." He said, holding out his hand. "You must be Pavel."

Pavel nodded and shook it, a lump in his throat. At his silence, his roommate raised an eyebrow, and for a moment he panicked. " _Da_. I mean, yez, I em Pavel."

The man nodded good-naturedly and plopped down on the open bed beside him. "Nice to meet you, kid."

He felt his face twist into a scowl. "Not keed. I em not a keed."

Once again, the eyebrow raised. "Really."

"No." He insisted, his cheeks flushed. "I em zhirteen, I em a teenager now, I cen take care ov myself. I em not a child."

Hikaru shrugged, looking a little amused. "Whatever you want. You're thirteen, then? Jesus. I'm nineteen." He offered.

Pavel looked at his feet, feeling incredibly young. He missed Russia terribly, and wanted his parents back. He had a feeling that it would be a lot longer than Christmas before he saw them again, though he couldn't say why. There was no reason that he wouldn't. His mother worked at home, his father was a businessman who often went on dry business trips to obscure parts of Russia, and he was a Star Fleet Cadet. And yet, that hint of uncertainty was there.

"You okay, ki— Pavel?" Asked Hikaru. He'd remembered not to call him kid. Pavel flushed with embarassment at having spaced off, but then smiled at the use of his name. Maybe the Academy wouldn't be so bad after all.

He was getting lost in thought again. He cleared his throat. " _Da._ Yes, I mean. I theenk I vill be fine."

The young man looked at him with an expression that was a mix of understanding and sympathy. He looked as though he were unsure what to say, and honestly, Pavel didn't blame him. He was a thirteen year old in a world of adults. He didn't belong at all here, no matter hard he was going to try. "If you ever need someone to talk to, when you're… _not_ okay, you can talk to me, okay? It's gotta be hard, being so different from everyone else."

He didn't say 'being so smart,' and for that Pavel was infinitely grateful. Everyone always asked him if it was hard being so smart. He always felt they were taking him at face value. There was a difference between being 'smart' and being so overwhelmingly good at learning and understanding that you could figure out solutions to math problems most had called impossible. He wasn't smart. He was different, he was an alien among other humans, and while he'd gotten used to it, it didn't make things less difficult.

The fact that this man who he'd just met seemed to understand him better than anyone else ever had in his entire life, excluding his parents, was incredibly encouraging. He had someone he could confide in, someone he could eventually place his trust in. That realization, that he wouldn't be completely alone, was overwhelming to Pavel, who'd already begun to resign himself to the bullying that he was sure would happen.

"Thank you, Hikaru. I appreciate zhat wery much." He said, trying not to sound stiff, trying to sound like a little boy who wanted a friend. At the same time, he felt a glimmer of worry that if he was too much like a kid Hikaru Sulu would abandon him, just like everyone else.

Somehow, Sulu seemed to sense his inner struggle. "You don't need to act like an adult." He said in a soft, reassuring voice. "You're _thirteen_ , for God's sakes. You don't need to act the age people expect you to be. That's not your job, Pavel. You can be whoever you want. You don't have to be bound by their expectations."

Pavel noticed something odd in the man's tone as he spoke. The words he was saying weren't only for him. They were being spoken to Sulu himself, telling him that he didn't have to be what they wanted him to be. "Who ees eet?" He asked.

Hikaru looked up, shocked. "What?"

"Who ees eet zhat ees making you feel trapped?"

Sulu's face twisted into one of respect for the boy before him. He paused, searching for the words. "My grandmother." He looked down at his hands, almost embarrassed. "She's from Japan, and she's told me all the time that I _have_ to be the best. No matter what, I have to be better than anyone else around. I could never do it, and she was always so disappointed. Then I told her I wanted to go to Star Fleet, and now I need to be the best pilot Star Fleet's ever seen, or I'm getting disowned."

Pavel blinked. The pressure to be the best was something he was familiar with, but not one he'd expected Hikaru to bear. He had seemed so… light, so unburdened. And yet he had a burden nearly as great as Pavel's. "I em sorry." He said truthfully. "I understand vhat you are going through."

"What's up in your life?" Sulu asked, and he sounded genuinely interested. No one but his parents was ever genuinely interested in everything he had to say. If it wasn't something revolutionary, they didn't want to hear it.

Pavel paused, thinking of his childhood. "By zhe age of two, I could speak een complete sentences vithout grammatical meestakes. By the age of four I vas reading fiwe hundred page nowels. I vent through all of primary school een a year. After zhat people realized zhat I vas deeferent. I could remember eweryzhing. I vas a genius, zhey said. I moowed up faster end faster, and zhe next thing I knev, I vas graduating high school at tvelve."

"Jesus." Said Hikaru in shock.

He smiled ruefully. "Once my parents realized hov smart I vas, zhey pushed me. Harder end harder, end failure vas not en option. Zhen my tutors end teachers pushed too. Alvays harder, harder harder. _Be zhe best, Pavel! Do better zhan zhe possible, Pavel! You must succeed, Pavel._ " His heart felt both heavy and light. "End zhen I _had_ to enleest. _You vill bring honor to Russia, Pavel._ But I do not zhink I cen."

The two sat in silence. Pavel felt embarrassed at the things he'd said, and figured sadly that he'd ruined his chances. There was no way Hikaru would be his friend now. Before he could think of something to do, however, the man spoke. "You know, you don't have to be the best."

"Vhat?" He was confused. Didn't he hate him now?

The dark-haired man smiled encouragingly. "You just have to be _your_ best. And I have a feeling your best is pretty damn good." Then he stood up, ruffled the boy's hair in a show of affection, and prepared to leave. "Do you want to go get dinner? It's getting late, and you're still growing."

At that precise moment Pavel realized he was starving. He hadn't eaten at all on the long flight to San Francisco, except for a small sandwich his mother had packed him. That had done little to satisfy his hunger, so he was ravenous. "I vould lof to. Vhat shall ve get?"

Hikaru shook his head. "Food's on me tonight. Think of it as a welcome gift."

" _Nyet_ , Hikaru, I hawe money, I cennot let you—"

He was interrupted by the man placing his hands on his shoulders. Hikaru was a fair bit taller than him, and as he looked up into the dark eyes he was painfully reminded of his Papa in Russia, comforting his weeping wife. "Pavel, let me do this just this once, as a _friend._ "

And suddenly Pavel realized that both of them were desperate for a friend, for someone to make them feel connected and a tiny bit less alone. Hikaru's words (as a _friend,_ as a _friend_ ) whispered on repeat through him, and he felt his face splitting into a very wide, very childish grin. "Okay."

"How does Chinese sound?" Hikaru said, his face splitting into an equally wide grin. "I heard that there's a really good place nearby; maybe we could explore a bit until we find it."

Pavel laughed. "Nozhing like an adwenture."

"I fully agree." Sulu laughed, his eyes twinkling.

The two new friends exited room 323 with smiles on their faces. Neither wore a coat, for it was early fall and the cold hadn't yet come, and besides, cold didn't bother Pavel after his childhood in icy Russia. If someone were to see them, they would see the almost palpable bond that had already begun to form between them. They would whisper about the oddity of a man befriending a child so much younger than him. Then they would notice the way the two held themselves, the way they stood as though standing so tall was unusual for them, and they would decide that perhaps it wasn't so odd after all. As it was, there was only one person watching them as they left room 323, and he did not think any of those thoughts. He was thinking something very different, something much darker and more dangerous.

Of course, to the two young men life was just beginning to turn out right. Sunlight seemed to be shining all around them, and it seemed impossible that things could go wrong now. There was no way sunlight could fade so quickly after it appeared. But they hadn't noticed the dark clouds on the horizon already approaching, preparing to steal away everything.

 **Hey, Author here!**

 **So I'm obviously writing a new Trek fic. I'm hoping to finish it before the end of May, because after that I lose my computer and any updates would have to be put off until August. I'm already at 74 pages, so that shouldn't be too hard.**

 **This is also in a different universe than Bourbon and Vodka. Jo does exist, but she does not know Chekov. This will also not be a slash fic. Sorry for you Chulu shippers, but I'm not one of them.**

 **I hope you like it, so let me know what you think!**

 **Trellya**


	2. Two: Vast Open Sky Could Do No Harm

**_Two: Vast Open Sky Could Do No Harm_**

In a small country home in Russia, a woman waited desperately for her husband. Her dark hair was disheveled and dirty, as though it needed washing, and she knew it, but was ignoring it. Her bright green eyes stared at the dark wooden door before her, flicking to the silver doorknob and to the window set in the upper portion and back again in a seemingly endless cycle.

Under her breath she sang a little gasp of a prayer, pleading to someone to _let him come home, like he promised, let him come home today._ Her lips moved rapidly, but sound rarely escaped. The fear and anxiety around her were palpable as her hands wrung themselves in her lap, ignoring the cooling cup of tea before her. All she could think of was how he'd been gone for days, how he'd promised he'd be back today, how she'd had to lie to Pasha about where he was, and she stared at a fixed location on the table, her jaw clenched.

Footsteps sounded on the frozen boards of the deck outside. The woman straightened, her eyes brightening slightly with hope. Her hands became deathly still, gripping each other so tightly the blood had drained from them. The doorknob twisted, and in walked a man. He was tall, wearing a large warm coat and matching scarf, gloves, and hat. It was impossible to truly tell who was underneath the layers, it appeared the woman knew immediately.

She got to her feet with a large cry and flung herself at the man, hugging him tightly. **"I was so worried, so, so worried, Andrei… Never do that to me again."** She spoke in rapid, quiet Russian, so quiet that the man himself could hardly hear what she was saying. Of course, even if she hadn't said a word, the man, Andrei, would have known what she was thinking. He knew his wife very well, and he knew exactly what she'd have him do for his occupation if he could.

 **"You know I can't promise that."** He said gently, prying his wife from around him. She was a woman who craved physical touch and affection. It calmed her nerves and kept her happy to the best of his ability. Andrei was not a naturally affectionate person, but something about Natalya made him willing to do things he'd never done before, or things so crazy he'd normally not even consider them, or even come up with the thought to begin with. **"I'm alright, Natalya."**

She stared into his eyes, searching for the truth. Her green eyes had always been good at reading his thoughts and emotions. After a moment, she seemed to locate what she was looking for, and smiled sadly. **"Are you really?"**

Andrei was silent. Sometimes she saw too much with those eyes of hers. **"It was just a hard day at work, is all."**

She nodded at his reply, and stepped back reluctantly, knowing he'd want his space after a long, hard trip. She stared at the cold cup of tea, and went to throw it away. Natalya knew exactly what she wanted to say, but she wasn't sure if she'd be brave enough to say it. She'd never been a particularly courageous woman. That had always been her sister, Irina. She'd been the one to climb the trees and go out during a storm. Of course, in the end that bravery had meant nothing…

Natalya shook away the bad memories threatening to creep into her heart, she dumped the cold tea in the sink and placed the cup in it. She'd wash it later. Then, working up the courage to speak, she glanced at where her husband was now sitting at their table. **"Did you find him?"** She turned away, not wishing to see his expression.

Andrei, who was helping himself to one of the cookies sitting on a platter, froze. He removed his hand still empty, an odd jerking movement that seemed very forced. **"No."**

 **"Will you stop searching?"** As she spoke, she realized she wasn't sure whether she wanted him to stop or continue. If he stopped, then her only son could end up dead. If he continued, then her husband would be the one lowered into the ground. Natalya was being faced with the possibility of the choice between her child and the love of her life. It was an impossible choice.

Andrei, realizing her loaded question, chuckled. **"No. I know you're unsure, but this man must be stopped before he hurts someone else."** Both could sense the unspoken meaning behind the words. _Before he hurts Pasha._

Natalya turned to face him, tears in her eyes. **"It's not fair. We shouldn't have to worry about him like this."**

 **"I know, love."** Andrei soothed, standing up from the table and closing the gap. He could see her distress, and he wanted to stop it before she broke down completely. **"I know, and I'm doing my best to fix everything."**

 **"But what if you can't?"** She said. Natalya Chekov was a pessimist. Andrei had figured that out the day he'd met her. For some reason, no matter how hard he tried to help, she'd find a way to bring back the fear and doubt he'd done very well at banishing from his own mind. **"What if he gets to the States, and he gets Pasha?"**

Andrei winced visibly, as though someone had hit him or shocked him. He'd already begun to have nightmares about that possibility, and it was something he didn't want to entertain in the daytime too. **"You must have faith, Natalya."** He said, silently pleading her to drop the subject before the dreams drug themselves to the surface of his consciousness. **"That is all we** ** _can_** **have in times like these."**

Thankfully, his wife remained silent. She had gotten the silent message, and was trying to think of something that would help him rather than hurt. Unfortunately, all she could think of were the horrible ways that monster could kill her poor son, and that definitely wasn't something she'd want to tell him about. Finally, her mind thought of something that they could both agree on. **"Do you want me to get out the vodka?"**

Slowly, Andrei's face split into a grin. The anxiety of his work was still on his face, but he could forget it for a little while. **"Oh, God, yes."**

The first week at the Academy was very different for Pavel Chekov than it was for the other first-year Cadets. While everyone else seemed to settle naturally into a "group," Pavel found himself completely alone except for one constant companion; Hikaru Sulu.

For the first time in his life, Pavel Chekov was not alone at class or at school. It was surreal, and often he would find himself wondering if he was, in fact, dreaming, and that he'd wake up and be alone again.

Of course, while the two had to take very similar classes, as they were both in Command Track, Pavel took some at different times, or some different ones altogether. Therefore, Sulu was only in half of his classes, which meant that instead the thirteen-year-old was left to deal with the number of slightly hostile Cadets alone.

The first day everyone just looked down on him. They were scoping him out, trying to figure out if he really was as smart as the rumors said, or if there had been a mistake in accepting him. By the end of the first day, everyone had realized that he was smarter tahn even the romors had guessed. Immediately, clouds of hatred began to swarm Pavel.

By the second day a few of the angrier ones had come up to him and warned him to 'dumb it down and be the moron kid he was supposed to be,' or else he'd have to be 'put in his place.' Pavel completely ignored them. He'd gotten warnings like this often in years past. Not once had he ever been physically bullied. In Russia everyone went for more psychological punishments.

The third day was very much the same. Pavel had figured that he had been right, and none of them would actually do anything— just like the bulk of people. He even holoed his parents, only to find his father had gone on one of his business trips again. His mother seemed nervous, but he could understand that. She hadn't had to be alone for days on end since before he'd been born. She had asked him how things were, if anyone was giving him trouble, and he honestly told her that no one had _done_ anything.

On the fourth day Pavel was glad he'd called when he did. After his first class of the day he grabbed his books as usual and left the classroom. To his surprise, he saw three young men standing there waiting for him. All three of them had been threatening him the past two days, and had assured him he'd suffer if he didn't stop. Pavel felt a trickle of fear run down his spine.

"Hello." He said politely. "Do you need me for somezhing? I vas just going to next class. Hikaru ees vaiting for me."

The leader of the trio, a very well-built man called Rob, raised his large fists and cracked his knuckles threateningly. "Damn right we need something from you, you little Russian freak."

Before he could cry out or do anything to stop them, the three were on him. They kicked and punched viciously, and he could feel bruises forming on his ribs, and eventually even hear the bones cracking. After a well-placed kick to his thin legs, Pavel collapsed to the ground, and they continued to kick him.

Instinct took over. He curled into a protective ball, wrapping his arms across his face to try and stop his nose from being broken. Rob seemed to notice this and snapped his fingers. The two others, whose names he didn't know, grabbed his arms and held them away from his body. "This is what you get for being a freak who doesn't know his place." Spat the older boy, and he stomped his foot on Pavel's face. His nose shattered. "Don't say anything, or we'll come back."

They left a moment later, laughing about how they'd shown the little freak what they were capable of, they ran off, leaving Pavel bleeding and bruised on the ground. He wasn't unconscious, but the pain was sickening enough he didn't think it wise to stand up. He could only sit there and hope that Hikaru would come and find him.

After all, no one else cared enough to take him to the hospital.

He felt his blood pool around him slowly. Not fast enough to kill him, he noted, not for a while. That was good. He had a feeling no one would come for a while. Eventually the pain became too much, and he slipped away into unconsciousness.

Jim Kirk wasn't having the best first week at the Academy. For one thing, everyone that learned his name had some question to ask or opinion to express, and he honestly didn't want to hear any of them. He hadn't met his dad, he didn't know anything about him other than what his mother had told him, and he sure as hell didn't want to hear what some random bitch thought about how his father could have somehow saved himself, when Jim had studied the issue enough to know that there was no way he could have.

Not to mention the teachers thought that he was a disgrace to his father's name. Jim resented that. His father's name was all he had of him. The classes themselves were fine (he was a bit of a genius himself, though nothing compared to that little Russian kid), but the teachers he couldn't stand.

Jim was struck from his thoughts as he slipped on something wet on the floor. Swearing, he regained his balance. Someone had probably spilled their drink and hadn't bothered to pick it up. He looked down, and realized with a chill that it was blood.

"Jesus." He gasped, falling to his knees as he saw the body. It was the little Russian kid, the one who he'd seen near them during the speech. He'd seemed scared, but sweet. And now he had been horribly beaten. His nose was badly broken, almost looking like it had been crushed with a boot, he'd been kicked so brutally that a couple ribs were actually sticking out of his chest, and he was covered with bruises.

He knew a bit about what to do in a time like this, but he had none of the necessary supplies. If he moved him, he ran the risk of puncturing a lung with one of his broken ribs, if they hadn't done so already. He had no idea what to do, so he did what he had already gotten used to doing in the past few days; he called Bones.

Bones, his roommate, thankfully wasn't in class, so he picked up the holocall almost immediately. _"Jim? Don't you have class?"_ He said in an accusing voice.

Jesus, he didn't have time for this. "Bones, I need you to get down to me right away. Th—"

 _"Why?"_ He interrupted. _"Why should I give up my free time? I'm not going to the bar, if that's what you're wanting. I'm trying to_ stop _drinking."_

Jim felt himself explode. "There is a dying kid down here, Bones!"

Silence. _"Who?"_

"That little Russian kid. What's-his-face, Chekov. He's been beaten pretty bad, Bones. I can't risk moving him until we do something." He tried not to let the desperation infect his voice. Honestly, he didn't know the kid, hadn't spoken to him once in the first few days despite having several classes with him. But from what he'd heard, the kid was only thirteen. Thirteen! He didn't deserve this.

He could hear the sounds of Bones running around their room. _"I'm coming down. Where are you?"_ Jim found himself saying directions to their location, despite the fact that in his mind he was drifting somewhere else. He was thinking about all that _he'd_ been through when he was thirteen, all the death and pain and hunger, and how he'd vowed he'd never let any kid experience anything like that if he could help it. Here was his chance to prove himself.

"Jesus Christ. They really worked a number on him." Bones said, and Jim realized that he'd been standing there the entire time. "I can't do a lot except heal a couple bruises and set his nose. Those ribs need surgery. We'll need to call in and get a bed down here to carry him." As he spoke, he pulled out a dermal regenerator and began healing the bruises scattered on the young man's face. "You're damn lucky I'm already a certified doctor, or this kid might have died."

Jim swallowed thickly. "I'll… I'll call in to the hospital and explain." He said.

Bones nodded in agreement. "And hurry. I don't know how much blood he's lost, or if those ribs punctured any organs. My tricorder's in the shop because _someone_ dropped it in the _toilet!"_

"I apologized about that." Jim argued as he dialed the number. It picked up immediately. "Yes, hello. I was walking to class and I found one of the Cadets, something Chekov, the little kid, you know, badly beaten on the ground."

"Do you require assistance, or can he make his way to the hospital by himself?"

"He's unconscious, and he's got some broken ribs. Bones— Doctor McCoy, I mean— is doing his best right now, but he says we need to get him to the hospital as soon as possible. We don't know how long he'll last." Jim said, once again trying to hide his desperation.

There was a shuffling noise. "What is your location?"

Jim gave it.

"We will be there in approximately three minutes. Are there any people you can think of that would wish to know his location?" Said the calm woman's voice.

Jim thought. Most of the time the kid seemed to sit alone, but in one of his classes he'd sat every day next to a Japanese guy. They'd seemingly got along well, and he'd even seen the boy laughing with him. What was the guy's name again? Sulu?

"Um, maybe this one guy… Sulu?" He said awkwardly.

There was the distant sound of typing. "Hikaru Sulu? He's Mr. Chekov's roommate."

That sounded right. "Yeah, him. I think they're friends, too."

There was a sound of acknowledgement. "Alright. We will contact Mr. Sulu and inform him of the situation."

"I… thanks." He said dumbly. He hung up.

Bones had moved from bruises to the kid's nose. He was doing his best to set it, but the bones were so smashed that it would probably take surgery to fix it, too. It sickened him that someone had hated the poor kid enough to try and kill him. He'd never actually spoken to the kid, but when he'd seen him around he'd seemed like a genuinely nice kid just trying to be his best. And now he was bleeding on the ground with two ribs sticking out of his chest.

"Doctor McCoy, will you assist us in lifting Cadet Chekov?" Said the voice of a man from behind him. Leonard nodded mutely and supported the boy's chest as he was lifted. If they weren't careful the damage could get worse.

"It's okay, kid," Said Leonard softly, despite knowing the kid probably couldn't hear him. "You're gonna be okay."

Sitting in Navigation 101, Hikaru Sulu was feeling more and more nervous. Usually by the time he got to the classroom Pavel was waiting for him, everything set out and ready to go. Today, the boy's usual spot was empty.

 _Maybe he's just going to the bathroom,_ he thought, trying to calm the fear that had begun to churn in his stomach. _Maybe he forgot something in our room._ He knew it wasn't true.

Time passed, and still the little thirteen-year-old Russian hadn't come to class. He was pretty sure no one else had noticed; in this class especially Pavel took good notes and paid attention. Whenever the teacher asked a question, he was always the first person to raise his hand to give an answer. It was always right, too.

The teacher asked a complicated math question that went over Hikaru's head. He wanted to be a pilot, not a navigator. Similar, but piloting required less complicated math. The teacher glanced to where Pavel always sat, and frowned. "Where is Mr. Chekov, Mr. Sulu?"

"I don't know, sir." He said helplessly.

The teacher frowned even deeper. "Well, perhaps you could answer the question?" _Shit,_ he thought.

Suddenly, the teacher's comm went off. He paused, and pulled it from his belt. "Yes?"

 _"I'm so sorry to interrupt, but we are obligated to inform you that your student Mr. Pavel Andreievich is currently in the hospital and going into surgery soon."_ The voice was that of a woman, who sounded bored despite the horrible words she was speaking. _"We are also told that Mr. Hikaru Sulu is closest to him, so if he'd like to come down and see him that would be allowed."_

The teacher gaped in shock. "I… Very well, he'll come down."

Hikaru was on his feet in an instant, grabbing his things as he prepared to run to the hospital. What had happened to him? He didn't understand. Pavel had been fine that morning, and now he was going into surgery? "Permission to be dismissed, sir?" He asked.

The man nodded. "Permission granted." He paused. "Let me know if he'll be okay, won't you? I like the kid, I'd hate to see him injured."

"Of course." He said, and then he was running faster than he ever had before, running to where his young friend was.

When he ran in the door, he was greeted by a young redheaded nurse. "You must be Mr. Sulu." She said. "Mr. Chekov is currently in surgery, but if you follow me we can discuss what happened to him."

Hikaru nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He felt sick to his stomach. What had happened? Briefely he remembered the kid dismissing the threats he'd been receiving. What if someone had followed through? He sat down in the seat the nurse offered, trying to settle his stomach.

"Judging from his injuries, someone— possible several people— severely beat Mr. Chekov. He has a broken nose, large amounts of bruising, and five broken ribs, two of which pierced the surface of his skin. He lost quite a bit of blood before he came here, but we've determined he will make a full recovery." She said in a calming voice.

Sulu was not feeling calm. "You're telling me he was _attacked_?!" He snarled, getting to his feet. "He's thirteen years old!"

"We know that, Mr. Sulu. We're just stating the facts, so please sit down." The nurse said, sounding a little irritated now. "It's not like _we_ attacked him."

Hikaru felt bad for getting angry, but it just wasn't fair. Chekov was a little kid, just a kid who wanted to do what he was destined to do. He didn't deserve to be beaten, to have his ribs broken and stuck through his chest! "Who found him?" He asked in a heavy voice.

"Uh…" She checked the PADD in front of her. "A Mr. James Kirk and Dr. Leonard McCoy. Kirk kept calling him 'Bones,' I believe."

Ah. The two had continued to hang out, it seemed. Suddenly Sulu was extremely grateful for the pair. Who knew what would have happened to the poor guy if they hadn't stumbled upon him? "Is one of them still here? I'd like to thank them."

The nurse smiled softly. "Dr. McCoy is currently assisting in the surgery, as he's already a full doctor and our primary surgeon is on vacation. Mr. Kirk is about to get lunch, I think. If you hurry, you might just catch him."

Sulu thanked her and got to his feet, searching for the well-built blonde man he'd come to recognize as the son of a Star Fleet Hero. After a few moments he saw him, and a wry smile crossed his lips. He was flirting shamelessly with one of the nurses, who appeared to be trying to convince herself that she wasn't interested before she could convince him.

"Uh, I'm sorry, but are you Jim Kirk?" He remembered that 'Bones' fellow— Doctor McCoy— called him Jim. He didn't seem like a James anyway.

Jim sighed, and left the nurse, who scuttled off, blushing furiously. "Yeah, I'm Jim. Why?"

"Hikaru Sulu." He introduced, holding out his hand. "I wanted to thank you. Without you, my best friend would probably be dead."

Jim quirked a smile. Sulu could see why after only a few days he'd been well-established as a lady's man. "Your best friend the thirteen-year-old?"

He shrugged. "I'm his roommate. Besides, I'm not that good at making friends, and Pavel's a lot more mature than you'd think. Anyway, I was wondering if I could take you out for a drink? You know, while we're waiting for the surgery to be over."

The amused smirk vanished, replaced by a genuine smile. "Drinks at noon? You're speaking my language, Sulu."

Despite the worry that churned in him over whether his friend would be alright, the thought of making a new one (and making his list of friends officially two) was something he could hold his fears aside for for a bit. "Let's go then." He said with a grin.

As Jim sipped on his beer, he thought that Sulu might not be too bad. Originally he'd thought he seemed a bit uptight, or a little conceited, but now it was clear that he was actually similar in personality to himself. The whole buying-him-beer thing was good too, of course.

"So, how hard is it?" Said Sulu, before taking a drink of his own beer. Jim raised an eyebrow, signalling to him to elaborate. "You know, being the son of the famous George Kirk."

The way that he phrased it made Jim like him more. He was acknowledging that it must be hard for him, and wanted to know more about it. "God-awful. Everyone either wants to offer their condolences— when I never even _knew_ the guy— or wants to criticize the decision he made that saved _hundreds_ of lives. I don't want to know what they would have done; it happened the way it happened and it won't change."

"So where'd you live after coming back to Earth?" Sulu asked. It was an odd question, one that didn't make sense with what he'd been talking about before, but it couldn't hurt.

He shrugged. "Iowa. I'm a farm kid."

"Indiana, born and raised. I'm also a farm kid." Sulu said with a grin.

Jim blinked. "Really? You?"

"Sure. My grandparents bought it after they immigrated from Japan. My grandfather died when I was young, but my grandmother…" He sighed, and it was as though a weight had settled on his shoulders. He once more appeared the stiff, serious man that Jim had seen from a distance.

Jim set down his beer. "What about her?"

"She expects the best from me. I was always supposed to be better than everyone at everything I participated in— school, sports, hell, even some drama club I joined in high school. I was to be the _best._ And I couldn't do it. Not once. Grandmother was always so disappointed in me." He sighed, and shook his head. "I made the mistake of telling her I wanted to be a pilot. She fixated on the idea, and before I knew it, she was telling me this was the last chance to make her proud."

Jim took another drink of beer, glancing at the Japanese man in interest. "And if you _don't_ make her proud?"

"I get disowned." He said darkly.

At this point it clicked in Jim's mind that he hadn't once mentioned his parents; he'd spoken of his grandfather who'd died when he was young and his grandmother, obviously, but not his parents. Why? He decided that he'd dare to ask the question. "What about your parents? What do they think?"

Sulu stiffened further. His face closed off so quickly it appeared it had been trained to do so. "They don't think anything. They're dead."

Somehow, Jim hadn't expected this. "What?"

"My mother died in childbirth. Some freak accident, they said, and when I was five my father went up and never came home."

"Star Fleet, then?" He said knowingly.

Sulu nodded. "My father was a pilot. On an away mission, the native species got angry and launched nuclear missiles at the ship. He was killed instantly, or so they said."

Understanding dawned in Jim's mind. "That's why you want to be a pilot."

He didn't reply; perhaps he couldn't. He simply nodded, staring down at his beer. Sulu cleared his throat and spoke after a moment. "After that… I moved to my grandparents' farm in Indiana. My grandfather died when I was twelve, so my grandmother was left to finish raising me all on my own. She… took matters into her own hands."

Jim stared in disbelief. "You are all she has left, and she'd willing to _disown_ you if you don't make her _proud_?"

"You don't understand her." Sulu argued. "It would break her heart, but she wouldn't want a grandson who is useless. She'd rather be alone than have that." He shrugged sadly. "I can't say I disagree."

Jim felt a small hand of resolve in him. "You're gonna be the best pilot Star Fleet's ever seen, Sulu." He promised. "You're gonna blow them all away."

The younger man laughed dryly. "I hope so."

The two men stayed silent for a few minutes, digesting what had been said. Their beers were finished, so they each got another one. Despite the lack of conversation, both could tell that they weren't done yet.

Finally, Jim spoke. "So why him?"

"What?" Sulu sounded thoroughly confused, not that Jim could blame him. The question hadn't been very well worded.

He shrugged. "You're a nice guy. You make good conversation, you listen, you'd make a good friend. Why, out of all the people in the Academy, did you choose a Russian genius who hasn't hit puberty yet?"

"Grandmother doesn't approve of friends." Sulu said after a while, staring at the nearly full beer. "She says they distract you from your ultimate goal. I was alone a lot as a kid by choice, though. I didn't want too much of their attention, I didn't want friends, I just wanted to make my grandparents happy. By the time I changed my mind, it was too late. Everyone had deemed me a bit of a freak."

Jim frowned. "Okay, but why Chekov?"

Sulu looked up. "Why did _you_ choose Doctor McCoy— what is it you call him, Bones?"

"I—" He hadn't been expecting the question to be fired back at him. He began to think, but quickly one answer rose above the rest. "I needed him. And I think he needed me."

"Well, there you go." Sulu said.

Jim looked at the man in surprise. He was gifted at manipulating conversation, getting what he wanted out of the speaker, keeping things generally where he could handle them. He was also clearly a skilled people reader. Jim didn't think Sulu realized it himself, but the way he spoke to people made him feel like he'd already been analyzed and figured out.

"You are a remarkable man, Sulu." He finally said, not disguising the respect in his voice.

Sulu chuckled, and took a final long drink of the beer. "And you are one destined for greatness."

And with that, the two men, now friends, left the small bar in search for a bite to eat before they returned to the hospital to check on Chekov's status. Despite the situation, both of their hearts were light.

When he woke, the Pavel Chekov's first thought was something along the lines of _this isn't Russia._ It was strange how even as he woke from what felt like a very deep sleep he could sense the difference in the air, taste that this wasn't his home. The next, he noticed the crisp smell of disinfectant. The hospital. He was in the hospital. Why?

He thought for a while, and slowly the details came back. Those three men— Rob and his cronies— had beaten him. He remembered the pain, and the feeling of lying in a pool of his own blood, and shuddered. As he did so, he felt a strange heavy tightness in his chest. Why? How badly had he been hurt? What was going on?

His heart monitor started beeping more rapidly— Pavel hadn't realized it had been beeping at all until the frequency had changed. Moments later, a nurse ran into his room. She smiled sweetly, at him, but that didn't help his worry and confusion.

"You're awake! Glad to see that, Mr. Chekov. You gave your friends quite a scare." She looked very cheerful, but it was the forced kind of cheerful that only gave you a sour feeling instead of reassuring you.

"Friends? I only haf one." He said finally, the well-meant words only adding to his confusion. "How badly vas I eenjured?"

She hesitated. "I'll let Doctor McCoy explain that. He's the one who operated on you."

"Operated?" He hadn't realized he'd been injured enough to require operation. An icy feeling spread from his heart down to his toes. Just how badly had they hurt him? He remembered the brutal kicks, the snapping of ribs, the sound his nose had made as it was crushed. He felt sick.

The door clicked open, and Pavel saw that a man had entered. He had dark brown hair and a face that looked like it wasn't used to smiling. He couldn't have been older than thirty, but he already had worry lines etched into his face. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions, kid." He spoke in a Southern accent.

Pavel nodded. "Just Pavel, please." He said meekly, hoping he didn't sound to stupid.

"Okay, Pavel." Doctor McCoy agreed. "You were discovered twenty-nine hours ago by Jim Kirk. You were unconscious and lying in a pool of your own blood. As Jim and I are roommates, he called me down and I did the best I could before the hospital crew showed up. After that I performed an operation to repair your ribs and nose."

Pavel's hand automatically reached up to feel his nose. His arm and chest protested, but he ignored them, instead focusing on the shape of his nose. He had his father's nose, and he quite liked it. To his relief, it felt completely normal. He relaxed slightly.

"Vhat vas wrong vith my reebs?" He asked curiously, rubbing them gently.

Doctor McCoy shifted slightly. "Five of 'em were broken, three more were cracked, and two of the broken ones had stuck clear through your skin."

Pavel winced at the thought. _That would explain all the blood,_ he thought with an internal shudder. _I'm lucky not to have died._

"You're absolutely right, kid." Said the doctor. Pavel blushed. He hadn't realized that he'd been speaking out loud. "There was blood everywhere, Jim actually slipped on it— it's how he find you. Had he been a few minutes later, the possibility of your survival would have become far less certain."

"Vhere ees Hikaru? He vill be vorried." Pavel said, feeling the lump form in his throat. He'd almost died at the ripe old age of thirteen years old.

Doctor McCoy got to his feet and stretched his back slightly. "He and Jim went out for drinks again. They went out yesterday afternoon, too. I think they enjoy one another's company."

Pavel felt his face fall. Did Hikaru not like him anymore? Had he found a new, better friend in Jim? McCoy must have seen his face fall, because he sighed and sat down again, this time much closer to Pavel's face. "Listen, kid—"

"Pavel." He corrected.

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Listen, _Pavel_ , Sulu's not gonna abandon you for Jim. He seems like a good man, and besides, he seems to need you as his friend just as much as you need him."

Chekov didn't reply. He simply stared at the sterile white sheets, trying not to think about how he might be about to lose his first friend. He'd been so strange as a child that everyone had avoided him, calling him a freak— and rightly so. He'd graduated high school at twelve, astonishing everyone. No one had expected him to actually be as smart as his parents claimed.

"Hey, don't worry about it. He'll be here in a minute, and you'll be able to talk to him." Doctor McCoy assured him. "I promise he'll still be your friend."

"Newer meke promeeses you cennot keep." He said quietly, turning his head to face the door, desperately hoping Hikaru would walk in and they could still be friends.

Doctor McCoy sighed deeply, looking annoyed at the boy's sadness. "C'mon, kid, you gotta—"

The door opened once more, and this time two people walked into the room. One was Hikaru, his black hair neatly styled and his Academy reds neat and tidy. The other was a blonde-haired man with striking blue eyes that Pavel could only assume was the 'Jim Kirk' McCoy had spoken of earlier.

"Pavel!" Hikaru said, rushing over to sit next to him. "I'm glad you're awake."

"Me too." He said with a wry smile.

Sulu sighed and looked his young friend from head to toe. "No offense, but you kind of look like hell."

He shrugged. "Vell, I vas beaten end keecked. Ees not surprising, really." He looked over and noticed Kirk standing awkwardly in the doorway. "Are you ze von who sawed me?"

The man— Jim— laughed. "Nah, I just found you. Bones was the one who saved your life, not me."

"Eef you deed not find me, I vould be dead. Zhenk you." Pavel said seriously, staring at the man with a degree of thankfulness he rarely expressed. Kirk's face twisted in a hint of discomfort, as though he wasn't used to being thanked.

Doctor McCoy— Pavel was pretty sure that was the 'Bones' Kirk had mentioned— cleared his throat. "Sorry to break up the happy reunion, but I need to ask if you could name your attacker."

"Zhere vere three." He said softly.

Everyone's eyes widened. McCoy cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Well, did you know any of them?"

Pavel hesitated. He remembered Rob's warning as he lay bleeding on the ground. If he told, they'd come back and do worse. Of course, if he continued to try his hardest in class, which he knew he would, they'd probably come back anyway. But he didn't want to make any potential punishments worse by squealing. Besides, he only knew the name of one of them. "No."

McCoy's lips thinned. "Ya know, we can protect ya, kid."

He scowled. "Don't call me keed."

"We can, though." Kirk said. "Whatever they said to you, we can make sure it doesn't happen."

"I don't know zhere names, anyvay." He said, only partially lying. Technically he knew the first name of one of them, but that wouldn't do much good, anyway. Right?

Hikaru sighed and leaned forward. "Could you see their faces, at least?"

Pavel didn't say anything. He couldn't trust himself to speak aloud. He had the feeling if he did he'd end up saying that he could, and the next day he'd be dead where he stood. So, these fears twisting in his stomach, he shook his head.

Doctor McCoy's eyes narrowed. "Are ya sure?"

Something inside him snapped. **"Yes. Now leave me alone!"** He winced as he realized he'd spoken in Russian rather than English. "I em sorry. I em tired. Leawe me alone for today."

The three men looked troubled by the boy's outburst in his native language. He'd never actually spoken in Russian in front of anyone since his arrival at the Academy, he'd been speaking it for so long the language came easy enough to him. Judging by their faces, they thought he was traumatized or frightened.

Honestly, they weren't that far off.

Slowly, Jim and Doctor McCoy got to their feet. "Alright, kid, but I'm not gonna let this drop forever. You change your mind, you let me know."

Pavel nodded, staring down at his hands. His throat felt tight after the lie, and his eyes burned with tears that he couldn't force away. "Ees just… ees just wery hard, sor."

Jim scoffed. "Don't call me sir. I'm not your superior, nor is Bones."

"Sorry." He muttered, beginning to wring his hands like he'd often seen his mother do back home in Russia. "Ees an eensteenct."

As Jim and Doctor McCoy left without another word, Hikaru smiled reassuringly and gripped Pavel's shoulder. "You never have to be alone, Pavel. Don't let yourself be alone."

"Pasha." He said before he could stop himself. Hikaru frowned a little, confused. "Een Russia, my family called me Pasha. Ees a neecknem."

"A nickname?" Hikaru repeated, a small smile spreading across his face. "You're letting me call you by a nickname?"

He paused. He'd never let anyone other than his family call him Pasha, and yet he had a feeling that this was the right thing to do. " _Da_."

Hikaru managed to laugh gaily despite the fact Pavel was lying injured in the hospital bed before him. "Well, then, Pasha, I guess you're stuck with me now, aren't you?"

Pavel, despite himself, grinned too. "So eet vould seem."

 **Hey, Author here!**

 **So, I've got a spot of writer's block, but that's alright. I know how I want things to end, and it will be a happish ending, which is all you can ask for in one of my fics, really. I promise that I won't kill off poor Sulu again. I still feel horrible about that one.**

 **Anyway, let me know what you think, please!**

 **Trellya**


	3. Three: With Every Year that Came to Pass

**_Three: With Every Year that Came to Pass_**

Andrei Chekov sighed contentedly, settling into bed next to his wife. It was late, and they were about to go to bed. He was still exhausted from yesterday's arrival home after the fruitless trip to locate the menace currently threatening his son. Hopefully a night of rest would calm his nerves and give him more energy back.

Natalya burst in holding her PADD, face shining with fear and worry. **"Andrei, I just received a message from the Academy. They say Pasha's been attacked, and that he's in the hospital!"**

Andrei felt his calm evaporate. No. Not already. **"Did they say what happened? Is he alright?"**

 **"I don't know what happened, they didn't say!"** Natalya said, her eyes now swimming with tears. **"They said he'd be okay, and that he'd holo us shortly, but…"**

Andrei buried his face in his hands. He should have looked longer. He knew that that beast wanted revenge on him, but he'd been _so_ sure he wouldn't attack so soon… and now his son was injured because of his failure. He was sure of it. **"It's my fault, I didn't search hard enough."**

 **"No, darling, no! You are doing the best you can. I have faith in you."** Natalya insisted firmly. The words from his wife, a notorious pessimist, gave him more hope than anything else could. **"Besides, they said he'd holo us** ** _today._** **He's clearly going to be okay if he can holo us now."**

No sooner had those words left her lips than her PADD vibrated to let her know she was receiving a holovid call. It read 'Pasha' on the screen. She clicked accept immediately, and ran over to the bed so Andrei could see his son as well.

They both gasped at the sight of him. He'd clearly been horribly beaten, judging by the bruises on his face (especially around his nose, Andrei suspected it had been broken) and the ginger way he smiled, like he was in a great deal of pain.

"Hello, Mama. Hello, Papa." They realized after a moment he'd spoken in English. He seemed to realize it too, as he grimaced and spoke in his native language. **"Sorry. I've already gotten into the habit."**

 **"Oh, Pasha, who did this to you?"** Natalya said desparingly, staring at each visible bruise.

He hesitated. **"Some men from school. They told me to back off in my schoolwork, but I did not, and so they beat me."**

Unconsciously both Andrei and Natalya relaxed. It wasn't _him_ after all. He hadn't failed. There was still some time before the strike. **"Do you know who they are?"**

 **"No."** He said in his lying voice, the one that they'd learned how to pick up very well over the years.

Andrei scowled. **"Pasha, you know not to lie to us."**

 **"Yes, Papa, but—"**

Andrei cut him off. He wasn't in the mood for teenage shenanigans. **"You are speaking in Russian. No one will know you are admitting. Whatever you're frightened of, you'll be safe."**

Pavel nodded hesitantly. **"But what if I'm not?"**

 **"You will be."** Andrei insisted, mainly because he couldn't just tell his son that there was a possibility that he could be killed by someone he should have taken care of long ago.

 **"I only know the name of one of them, and I don't even know his last name."** Pavel said softly, glancing around the room about him that they couldn't see. **"His name is Rob. He'd threatened me earlier in the week, but I didn't pay attention. I've been threatened before, and no one ever—"**

 **"You've been threatened before?"** Said Natalya, her eyes widening in horror. She glanced at her husband, fear in her eyes as well. When she spoke it was in a whisper. **"Did you know of this?"**

Andrei shook his head. **"No."** He turned to his son. **"You were threatened in Russia? Why didn't you tell us?"**

He shrugged helplessly. **"I never had reason to. They never followed through; ignoring me was enough for Russian children. For brash Americans, nothing is ever enough."**

 **"You would have told us only if you'd been hurt?"** Natalya said in an angry voice. Her son winced, and did not reply. **"Pasha, what if one attack is all that it takes?"**

Pasha looked up sharply. **"No one would dare kill me. If they got caught even hitting me, they'd be released from the Academy. Besides, I am not totally helpless. I was taken by surprise; I'll be more on guard now, they'll find I don't fall so easily."**

The answer was very much like something Andrei himself would say. He smiled a little, but Natalya was not so amused. **"Pavel Andreivich, if I get wind you knew about some threat and did not tell us before you get hurt I will steal Vladislav's shuttle and beat you myself."**

Pavel winced at the use of his full name. His mother rarely used it. **"Yes, Mama."**

 **"Now rest, get better. I expect you to perform to your fullest capacity, and to inform someone of any threats you receive."** Natalya continued, her eyes hard with a sternness he'd rarely seen on her face before. Then they softened. **"We love you, Pasha. Remember that."**

Pavel smiled sweetly, and it made Andrei's heart ache to see the bruises on his face, to know he'd had to undergo surgery because he was such a brilliant boy. **"Always, Mama. Goodbye."**

 **"Goodbye, Pasha."** Andrei said, forcing a smile on his face despite knowing that it would be a very sad one. His son's image faded from the screen, and he turned to Natalya. **"I must leave again tomorrow."**

Natalya frowned, her whole face falling. A look of vague fear settled in the creases. **"You just got back, Andrei! Just a week, please, then you can go."**

Andrei shook his head. He would love to stay, he wanted nothing more, but he had a gut feeling that if he didn't work quickly and eliminate the danger Pasha would suffer even more than he already had. **"If I do not, then Pasha could be hurt again, or worse. You know this. You know I must."**

His wife placed a gentle hand on his face, tears in her eyes. **"I know, my love. But please… be careful. I couldn't bear it if you were killed."**

 **"I will as careful as is possible, I promise."** He said. Of course, there was no guarantee that he'd come back, but he would try his hardest. He owed it to her, owed it to her family.

Natalya nodded, but she didn't look entirely reassured. How could she? Ever since he'd told her the truth about his 'business trips,' she'd worried constantly, and with good reason. Every time he left the house there was a large chance he'd never come home. **"You will stay tonight?"**

 **"Of course."** Andrei said. Part of him wanted to leave now, but the fear in her eyes was greater than he'd seen in years, and he knew that she'd receive some small bit of comfort from him having at least one last good night's rest at home. **"All will be well. You'll see."**

She laughed, a weak watery chuckle that made his heart pang once more. How he wished he didn't have to do this. But the Russian government had given its orders, and he'd failed, and now he had to pay the consequences. **"Will I?"**

Pavel Chekov stayed in bed for another week before finally being released with orders from Doctor McCoy to "watch his damn back," and to "avoid those bastards" that he supposedly _knew_ he'd seen. The doctor was right, but Pavel sure as hell wasn't about to tell him that.

Hikaru walked him back to their room, and he could feel the man's eyes watching for any stumbling. Honestly, he could walk fine now, just not quite as long as he used to. His ribs hurt when he laughed, but that was to be expected, he'd been told. They'd probably hurt for a while longer, maybe even a couple more weeks.

The bruises on his face had been healed, thankfully, so didn't have to walk around with his face more purple and blue than skin tone. However, the worn-out look on his face and the way he was on guard now seemed to make many almost afraid of him. Pavel didn't mind. He just wanted to be left alone.

Somehow Hikaru, Jim Kirk, and Doctor McCoy had arranged for one of them to always walk him to his next class. They'd been assured by the Academy board that it was acceptable for them to be late for class if they were doing this, and slowly Pavel's nerves began to fade.

Several weeks passed. He called his parents twice a week, but every time he seemed to have just missed his father as he left for yet another business trip. It had been a month since he'd last spoken to his father, and Pavel was beginning to feel nervous. He had the feeling that it wasn't many small trips he'd been gone on, but one long one.

With every call, his mother seemed more worried, more upset. He could see the fear in her eyes, and it worried him greatly. _Why_ was she afraid? Papa's business wasn't dangerous. He knew little about it, but he knew that much. All the same, a hollow fear began to settle in his own stomach.

One day, he couldn't stand it anymore. **"Mama, where's Papa?"**

She froze, and her smile fell slightly. Then it lifted again, but seemed far more forced. **"He is on a business trip. I already told you. He was very sad to have missed you."**

 **"When does he come back? I can call before he leaves again."** Pavel offered, watching Natalya Chekov's reaction closely.

Her face drained of color. She licked her lips. **"He… he is coming back… I…"** Quite suddenly, she burst into tears. **"Oh, Pasha, I don't know when he'd coming back. He had to leave, and now he's been gone a month, and I'm so worried!"**

Pavel had no idea how to deal with this. He hadn't expected her to cry, hadn't expected for his father to have _actually_ been gone for a month, and he _really_ hadn't expected him to be missing. **"Why did he have to leave, Mama?"**

 **"It is too dangerous to say."** She said, wringing her hands urgently. **"Please, Pasha, forget what I have told you, and do not call again unless there is an emergency. It…"** She looked as though every word she was saying was causing her pain. **"it is safer that way."**

 **"What? Mama, I don't understand!"** He said in shock. Why was his mother cutting him off?

She continued as though he hadn't even spoken. **"When he comes back we will call you, and we can resume. If we haven't called by Christmas, I must ask you stay in San Francisco through the break."**

 **"Mama…"** Pavel said dumbly, staring at her with tears in his eyes. He'd wanted to come home for Christmas, to see his beloved country again, to hug and kiss his mother and father for the first time in months. Now suddenly that was being torn away from him.

His mother had tears in her eyes too. **"We love you, Pasha. Remember that."** Suddenly the little phrase he'd been told all his life had a different meaning. Instead of a slightly silly reminder told to cheer him up, it had a desperate feel, as though his mother feared the secrets she held inside would make her son not love them anymore.

Instead of replying with his usual playful 'always,' he found himself saying something quite different. **"If you love me, why do you keep secrets? Why do you shove me away?"** His mother's face fell, and she looked like he'd slapped her. Before he could say sorry, he hung up. At that moment, guilt at the harsh words he'd said caught up with him, and he dissolved into tears of guilt and feelings of betrayal.

Hikaru Sulu had gone out for a drink with Jim. In the weeks following the attack on Pasha, he'd begun a friendship with the older man. Jim Kirk had quickly established himself as a true ladies' man, one who could get almost any woman he wanted— a notable exception being the mysterious Uhura, who refused to tell him her first name.

If Pavel wanted to holo his parents, Hikaru would ask Jim if he'd get a drink, despite not knowing the language. He wanted to respect the boy's privacy, he knew it must be hard being a thirteen year old at the Academy, where one was surrounded by adults anywhere from age eighteen to (in McCoy's case) thirty.

At some point, Hikaru realized that it had been a couple of hours, and that he should probably get home. He bid Jim a cheerful farewell as the good-looking blonde went home with some girl from the bar, and walked back to his room. He wasn't in any hurry— he was pleasantly buzzed after his drinks, and it was night, so he found himself happily watching the stars.

Someday, he thought, he'd be up in those stars, flying a starship. And he'd be the best damn pilot the world had ever seen. Finally, his grandmother would be proud of him. Finally, she'd love him.

Eventually, of course he actually made his way to his room. Sulu was humming a cheerful song to himself as he struggled to open the door. He giggled at the trouble he was having. He really was hopeless while drunk, wasn't he?

When he finally opened the door, something about the air inside the room made the drunk cheerfulness melt away. Sadness was thick in the air, and Hikaru could hear quiet muffled sobs coming from Pavel's bed. Something bad had happened, that much was obvious. He wished suddenly he wasn't drunk, that he'd been there to give him someone to hold onto, because that poor kid never deserved to be alone.

"Pasha, what happened?" Hikaru said, forcing himself into sobriety in a way he had never thought possible without a bucket of cold water. "What's wrong?"

The young Russian boy ignored him, and continued crying into his pillow. He'd been there for a while, judging by the way he seemed to be half asleep. Crying often did that to you. No matter how hard you tried to stay upset, eventually your tears soothed it all, and you found yourself comforted. It often lulled you sleep as well, and you usually woke feeling refreshed.

"Pasha. Talk to me. I'm here now, and I'm not gonna leave you alone." Hikaru promised, trying to decide whether or not to reach out to the crying teenager.

He muttered something into his pillow. It was completely inaudible, and, he suspected, in Russian. "Pasha."

"Don't call me zat. No one cen call me zat enymore."

The words surprised Sulu, and he felt a stab of hurt. After knowing him only a week Pavel had granted him status level with his family, and now suddenly he wasn't worthy anymore? "Pavel, then. What happened?"

Slowly, he sat up. His face and eyes were red and wet with tears, and he looked miserable. "My mozther betrayed me." He said dispairingly. "She said I cennot contact her unteel my fazther comes back, but he ees meesing and may newer come home."

"What?" Hikaru stared at the boy in shock. From what he'd heard about Pavel's father, he was some sort of business man who went on frequent business trips. Being missing didn't make any sense. "I thought he was a business man."

" _Da_ , so deed I."

"Pash— Pavel, I don't understand." Hikaru said desperately, trying to get a grasp on the situation. "Your father's missing, your mother won't let you contact her until he's found, but she doesn't even think he's coming home?"

Pavel nodded. "She vill not let me come home for Chreestmas. I em to stay here." Talking, despite how Sulu was being no help whatsoever, seemed to be helping. Already the red was fading from his cheeks, and his tears were drying into the salty lines of tear-tracks.

"God, Pavel. I'm sorry." And he was. He'd quickly realized how closely he was clinging to the idea of seeing his parents again at Christmas, and now he suddenly wasn't even allowed to holo them. At the same time, he thought of how strange it was to say the boy's full name. It felt distant, almost informal. "Why… why can't I call you Pasha now?" He asked timidly.

Pavel looked up at him, sadness still welling in his eyes. "My parents hawe been hiding meny secrets from me. Zhey do not lowe me, and so ze neeckname Pasha ees meaningless. I do not vish for eet to be used any longer."

Hikaru blinked. He understood why to a point, but the whole deal screamed teenage logic. He decided not to question him, and instead find a new nickname. "Okay, I can accept that. But… Can I find you a new nickname?"

"Like vhat?" He snorted.

Suddenly, it popped into his head, and he knew that it was a perfect fit. "Pav."

Pavel blinked. It surprised him, but Sulu could tell he liked it. "Ees good. Do you theenk eet feets me?"

"Yes." He said honestly. In that moment, it seemed that he became a more 'real' friend to the boy. Before, he was almost a stand-in for the family he'd left behind in Russia— comforting him like a father or brother would, using the nickname only his family had ever used because he'd never had friends. But now, he was the one there when it seemed his family had abandoned him, the one who'd stuck around long enough and cared enough to give him a nickname that was just for him and Pavel, not for Pavel and his family _and_ Hikaru. In that moment, they truly became best friends. In that moment, all the bad things didn't seem to matter anymore.

Their age gap, their different heritages, their different struggles— none of it mattered, now that they had each other. Neither of them spoke a word of this aloud, but the smile that appeared in Pav's eyes was more than enough to assure Hikaru of this fact.

Suddenly, the boy hugged him tightly around the middle. "Thenk you." He whispered, sounding tearful once more, but this was a different kind of tears. Where before there had been tears of sorrow, now there were tears of gratitude, tears that symbolised that everything was, indeed, going to be alright.

"Thank _you._ " Said Hikaru sincerely as he hugged Pav back. "You're my first real friend."

"End you are ze same to me." The boy admitted.

Hikaru laughed a little, and ruffled the golden curls atop the teenager's head. "Well, then, I guess this'll be quite an adventure!"

Natalya Chekov felt utterly miserable. A pessimist by nature, it was hard for her to stay positive and keep a smile on her face even when things were going well, let alone when her world was falling around her. She was able to keep her depression in check with her family around her, but now…

 _She met Andrei Chekov when she was twenty-two, and about to give up and end her own life. It was complete chance that he happened to walk into the girl's bathroom that day by accident. Had he not, she would have blown her own head off with her father's old phaser._

 _She had found out the day before that her sister had died of some mysterious alien disease. It was a cruel blow, and very much the final one. Natalya's beloved sister, Irina, was all she had left in the world. Her parents had died several years previous in a shuttle accident, leaving fifteen-year-old Natalya orphaned with only seventeen-year-old Irina to provide for them. It had been hard, but the two sisters had had each other, just like they always had._

 _But not anymore. Never again would Irina hug her and tell her funny stories of when they were younger, never again would she even see her sister. For Natalya, who had already struggled with depression before her parents' deaths, Irina was her anchor, the one thing that could stop herself from collapsing into blackness._

 _Her anchor had fallen, and Natalya too was about to fall._

 _So she'd taken her father's old phaser and gone into the public bathroom of the local internet café. She forgot to lock the door. That one moment changed her life,_ gave _her a new life. Because since that door was unlocked, Andrei Chekov was able to open the women's restroom on accident, and was able to see what she'd been about to do before he'd interrupted._

 ** _"I'm very sorry, ma'am. I thought this was the—"_** _He'd frozen, shocked._ ** _"Were you about to— oh my god."_**

 ** _"Go away."_** _She'd told him angrily._

 _He'd stared at her, and Natalya had noted that he had very unruly golden hair, and very kind eyes._ ** _"So you can kill yourself? I think not. Just… just put the phaser down, and we can talk over some coffee. You can tell me what's wrong, and maybe I can try to fix it."_**

 _She'd laughed shortly._ ** _"You can't help me."_**

 ** _"Try me."_**

 _And, to her utter shock, he had. He'd helped her, drawn her out from her depression, and after a time as friends, they'd fallen in love. And at some point, Natalya wasn't sure where, she'd realized that Andrei Chekov was better than an anchor that could tear loose. He was a rock._

But she'd been wrong. Andrei was another anchor, one that could be torn away just as easily as Irina, and his loss would hit her even more painfully. He was her partner, her second half, and without him she'd crumble. One mistake, out of the thousands of missions he'd been on, _one_ mistake, and now she hadn't heard from him for a month and she was faced with the distinct possibility that she could not only lose her husband, but her only son as well.

Pasha, poor Pasha. It had broken her to pieces to see the confusion and betrayal in his eyes, but she'd had to do it. It was the only way to protect him. Their only hope was that Pasha leaving Russia would throw him off the scent, that Andrei could hunt him down and stop him, and that everything would resolve peacefully. But Natalya wasn't stupid, nor was she blind. She knew that the likelihood of all that playing out perfectly was practically zero.

Sometimes she wished she was stupid. At least then she'd be happy.

Natalya continued to stare blankly at the PADD in front of her, just as she'd been doing for the past few hours. She desperately wished to talk to Andrei. Perhaps then all the troubles of the past month would go away. Perhaps he'd make her feel happy again, and smile that little smile that Pasha had inherited, the one he smiled when he thought no one was looking, the one that had made her fall in love with him.

 **"I miss you, Andrei."** She said, the tears forming in her eyes. **"Please come home. I wait for you."**

"Would it offend you if I gave you a piggy-back ride?" Hikaru questioned one day out of the blue. He'd been working on a paper for Inter-Planet Relations, but had gotten distracted.

Pavel stared at his friend in confusion. "A vhat?"

Sulu's eyes widened. "You don't know what a piggy-back ride is?"

The young genius frowned. "I do not see vhy one should ride on ze back of a peeg."

It was one of the few times the boy hadn't known about some American saying. Figures of speech were fairly common, but actual objects he almost always knew, unless he was exhausted. "No, no, you don't actually ride a pig. You climb on another person's back and hold on as they run around."

"But vhy vould I—"

"You know what, you don't get to say no. You have to experience a piggy-back ride." Hikaru said seriously. He wanted to laugh at the confusion on his friend's face, but he knew that it would hurt his feelings. "Come on."

Pavel frowned. "But, Karu—"

Karu. It was Pav's nickname for him, something that had been developed in the days following the holo conversation with his mother that had caused him to break down. The first time he'd used it, Hikaru had been so surprised he dropped his mug of coffee and spilled it all over his feet, causing burns that he'd had to get healed. Now, several weeks later, he'd grown to love it.

"Don't 'but, Karu' me, Pav! You're getting a piggy-back ride, and you'll enjoy it." They were out in the hallway now. "Get on my back." He crouched, giving the boy easier access. He was quite a bit shorter than Sulu, although he had already grown two inches in the two months he'd been in America.

Pavel hesitated, and climbed on the man's back. HIkaru straightened, and Pav's hands naturally clasped around his neck. "Hold my shoulders, not my neck. I don't want you to strangle me." The hands moved to his shoulders. "You set?"

" _Da._ "

"Okay, here we go!" He took off running, holding Pavel's legs so they wouldn't drag. Pav shrieked in surprise, and held on tighter, but a moment later he was laughing.

After a while they reached their room again. Hikaru set the boy down, grinning at the laughter and flushed cheeks. He had never seen the boy in such a good mood. After the fateful holo conversation with his mother, he'd constantly worried about his father. He had no idea where he could have gone that would make his mother so desperately afraid, but it clearly wasn't good.

But now, as the thirteen-year-old laughed happily, all trace of sadness forgotten, if but for a few moments, Hikaru thought that Pavel Chekov's smile was like pure sunlight. Little did he know that clouds were coming, and soon there would be no sunlight anymore.

 **Hey guys, Author here!**

 **I'm on chapter six, and almost done with it, and I expect eight or nine. Happy ending guaranteed, guys. Neither of the boys die.**

 **Should have it finished before the end of May. If not I'll update however many I have and try to finish over the summer, but no guarantees. I have only my iphone in the summer.**

 **Trellya**


	4. Four: More Clouds Appeared

p class="p1" style="text-align: center;"span class="s1"strongemFour: More Clouds Appeared 'Till the Sky Went Black/em/strong/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Andrei Chekov triple-checked to make sure the tip he'd gotten was genuine. It was too good to be true that some random citizen had called the New Russian Intelligence Agency, claiming to have found the man they'd been searching for, and everyone knew it. Unfortunately for him, this too-good-to-be-true tip had actually checked out, leaving him no choice but to go to the warehouse mentioned./span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Deep inside, he knew it was a trap. There was no way it wasn't, no matter if it had checked out. His insticts, honed by twenty years in the field, were telling him that if he went, something would go horribly wrong. Normally, he'd explain this to his superiors, and he'd be out of it until better preparations could be made, but this time… with so much on the line, he'd had no choice./span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Okay. He could do this. It was no different than any of the other missions he'd been sent on. Andrei checked to see if his phaser was working on all settings, then pulled out a PADD. It was a smaller size than most, only a bit larger than than a communicator, and made for one reason. He pressed 'record.'/span/p  
p class="p4"strong"Hello, love. Hello, Pasha, if you ever watch this. If this has reached you, it means that I have failed to eliminate the threat. It means that the threat— that he's killed me. Of course I hope that when I get out I can simply delete this, just as I've done with every other mission I've gone on, but something tells me that this might be the last time I say goodbye." /strongAndrei began. It never got easier, recording each goodbye. /p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Natalya hadn't known about them. He hadn't wanted her to. It had been his hope that he'd still be alive and well by Pavel's eighteenth birthday, which happened to be his fiftieth, and then retire. He had quite a bit of money in their accounts, and their lives would be comfortable. Natalya should never have had found out about the damn messages./span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Of course, he wasn't dead yet. He continued. strong"I love you, Natalya. I know you can't believe it sometimes, and I know that this will be hard for you, but I love you more than I've ever loved anyone. Please, for me, don't let yourself collapse. I want you to be a very old woman when I see you again." /strongHe joked, not bothering to hide the tears in his eyes. He said the same thing almost every time. Of course, this one would be a little different./span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"strong"Pasha… My beautiful boy. I know you will hate me for lying to you, for being selfish. But please understand, I just wanted for you to be happy. That is all I ever wanted. So don't lock yourself away. Let your friends from the Academy help you, Pasha, let them into your hurting heart. I know it's going to be hard, you're my son, after all, but I believe that you can. You can do anything if you try hard enough." /strongHis throat closed a little with emotion. strong"And… and please help your mother. Don't let her shut herself away. She needs you, more than you know."/strong/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"He stopped once more, and smiled sadly at the tiny screen, unable to see his image clearly through the tears in his eyes. strong"I love you, Pasha. I love you, Natalya. Never forget that."/strong/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"And then, just as he was about to touch the screen, he winked. strong"I'll see how it looks over there on the other side, eh?"/strong/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"***/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""You are sure ees not trouble to stay at your grandmozher's weeth you ower Christmas?" Pavel said nervously, fidgeting with the buttons on his jacket. It was a new one, bought for the type of weather he'd never experienced in Russia. In San Francisco any snow was cause for breaking news; in Russia it was a fact of life. He'd quickly realized his heavy winter coat was pointless at the Academy, and so he'd bought another jacket for the chilly weather of the fall and winter months. Of course, to him it felt like summer./span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Karu laughed. "Of course I'm sure. I wouldn't have asked you at all if I wasn't sure."/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"In the past three months Hikaru Sulu had established himself as one of the finest potential pilots Starfleet had ever seen. This greatly helped his relationship with his grandmother (that and the fact that Pavel had convinced him to talk to her about the weight of her expectations). When it had become clear that Andrei Chekov would remain missing, Pavel had resigned himself to staying at the Academy over break./span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Then Hikaru had suggested that he go to Indiana with him. At first Pavel had been hesitant. He didn't know Mrs. Sulu, and he had heard she was incredibly strict. So he'd expressed his hesitations. But Hikaru had insisted, and now here he was, about to get on the shuttle to Indianapolis./span/p  
p class="p4""Alright. But eef she does not like me, ees your fault." Chekov complained, still pulling on the buttons of his jacket./p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Karu glanced his way. "You're going to tear that button right off if you don't stop."/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"He stopped for a moment, and then started up again. /span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""We are now boarding the 0800 shuttle to Indianapolis. All passengers to Indianapolis, please board the shuttle now." Said the stewardess loudly. About twenty people got to their feet handed boarded the shuttle./span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""Last chance." Karu joked as they buckled their seatbelts./span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Pavel hesitated, then shook his head. "No, I vill go."/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""Good." Hikaru said, clearly satisfied./span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"***/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""We have landed, please remove your harnesses and exit the shuttle. Thank you." Said the stewardess. /span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Pavel jumped to his feet, suddenly incredibly nervous. He'd never been very good at meeting new people. They found him odd, and left him alone. While Hikaru continually assured him that Mrs. Sulu would like him perfectly well, Pavel couldn't help the stirring insecurity in his stomach./span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Hikaru led him through the crowd, one his hands on Pavel's shoulder. It was a protective gesture, one that an older brother would make, and it helped calm the anxiety. He knew he was being irrational, but his fear of being disliked and left in the dust was an old one, and hard to banish. Eventually the man pointed. "She's over there."/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Mrs. Sulu was a small elderly Japanese woman with grey hair and a pleasant face. She visibly straightened at the sight of her grandson, and she held out her hands. "Hikaru, my grandson. I am glad you are well. And this must be Mr. Chekov?"/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"He nodded mutely. Karu elbowed him, and he coughed. "emDa/em. I mean, yes. I em Pavel Chekov." He hesitated, trying to remember the proper American way to meet someone. "I em pleased to meet you." He held out his hand./span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Her hand met his, and she shook it briefly. Her grip was surprisingly strong. "You may call me Grandmother. Hikaru has told me all about you."/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""Really?" He couldn't help but be pleased. He'd never had a friend before, let alone one that told people about him./span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"She nodded. "Yes, he seems quite fond of you. Now, while Hikaru drives us to the farm, I can get to know you. Clearly you are some sort of prodigy, you're the youngest ever to be accepted at the Academy, but I'd like to know more."br / /span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Grandmother was an interesting woman, Chekov came to realize. She was nice, and a very friendly person, but she didn't attempt to hide her values from you. After learning the details of his academic pursuits, she told him that he brought honor to his family, and that she would be proud to have such a smart and hardworking young man as her grandson. As blunt as this statement was, it was also touching, and signified Pavel's unofficial adoption into the Sulu family./span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"It was lunchtime when they reached the Sulu farm. Pavel was starving, though he'd never admit it. Grandmother seemed to notice, and immediately ordered Hikaru to make him something while she continued to talk to him. Hikaru was a dreadful cook, as Pavel had learned after an incident involving an exploding microwave and a spoon that he'd been told not to tell anyone about, so he was quite nervous about this. Thankfully, making a sandwich with pre-cut ingredients was apparently in Karu's repertoire, and he received a ham and cheese sandwich and potato chips incident free. /span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""Would you like some tea?" Hikaru asked after handing him his plate./span/p  
p class="p4"Pavel didn't normally drink tea. His mother did, but she'd told him he was too young. He figured it would be impolite to refuse, and so shrugged. "Eef ees not too much trouble."/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""Hikaru is a hopeless cook, but his tea is excellent." Grandmother stated calmly, leaning forward and stealing one of his potato chips. This woman confused him. She'd always sounded so serious and strict and a little cold in Karu's stories, and yet here she was, telling him that she would be proud to have him as a grandson and eating his potato chips./span/p  
p class="p4"Her grandson snorted. "I'm not emthat /embad of a cook, Grandmother."/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"The old woman laughed a strange little laugh that sounded like it was being choked in her throat. "I have known you enough to beware you in the kitchen, Hikaru. You are a danger to yourself and any food unfortunate enough to find its way under your knife."/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Pavel smirked at the sight of his best friend's face turning red with embarassment. "Do not forget ze time vith ze spoon end ze microwave deener."/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"He spun around, eyes wide. "We promised not to talk about that!"/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""I do not know how, but ze whole zhing exploded… food all ower our room, end you vould not get any help for ages…"/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""Shh!" He rushed forward and slapped a hand on his friend's face. Pavel pushed it off with little effort, laughing now./span/p  
p class="p4"His eyes twinkled. "End ze spoon vas—"/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""Don't you dare—"/span/p  
p class="p4""Lodged een ze ceiling! End ees steel zhere, eet vould not come out!"/p  
p class="p4""That's it!" Hikaru lunged forward once more and this time picked up the boy and threw him over his shoulder. Pavel shrieked in surprise, but he was thrilled at the same time. At times like this Hikaru was less a friend and more like a big brother. "I'm gonna put you in the freezer."/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""Ees okay, ze cold vill not bozer me. Ees just like Russia!" Pavel gasped, face hurting from all his laughing. /span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Their petty argument continued for quite some time, and eventually they realized that Grandmother was in front of them, holding a tray with several cups of tea on it. "You two were taking too long, so I made some myself." She said calmly, placing the tray on the coffee table. She grabbed her own cup and leaned back in her chair. "Go on, continue. Your fighting is entertaining."/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"The boys blushed, and Pavel was back on the ground in an instant. He felt the blood rushing out of his face, and for an instant he swayed on his feet. Then he sat down on the chair he'd previously been in and grabbed his own cup of tea. /span/p  
p class="p4"After taking a sip he found it to be too bitter for him, though not as bitter as coffee, but he continued to drink, too embarassed to ask for some sugar. Grandmother seemed to have decided that she'd interrogated Pavel enough, and instead turned to Hikaru./p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Her demeanor changed slightly. It was subtle, but clearly there. When she talked to Pavel she had a normal grandmotherly feeling about her, with a slight undertone of strictness. When she only talked to Hikaru her voice changed into a more judgemental and icy one, and he could hear her expectations as she spoke. Watching them interract, Pavel could see the relaxed, happy atmosphere become more tense./span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"He frowned; he couldn't help it. /span/p  
p class="p4"Grandmother noticed, and instantly became more cheerful. "Of course, Hikaru, you are doing wonderfully."/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Pavel frowned more, sensing how she felt she was lying. Couldn't she tell him honestly? He could tell she cared deeply about him, why wouldn't she say so? Grandmother, once again, noticed, and this time she seemed to see the message in his eyes. She visibly softened. "You really are doing wonderfully, grandson. I am proud of you."/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Her words were sincere, really sincere, and judging by Hikaru's expression, such admissions were few and far between. "I… thank you."/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Grandmother nodded, and got to her feet. "Hikaru, go show Pavel around the farm. I'm sure he'll find it interesting. Don't come back until dinner, please."/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Sulu blinked, still a little shocked. "Uh… yeah. Sure. Farm. Uh…"/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""Go." She said more gently./span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Hikaru nodded, grabbed Pavel's hand, and dragged him away./span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"***/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Andrei Chekov was slowly making his way through an old warehouse. It was filled with strange wooden crates marked in English, saying things like "WARNING: FLAMMABLE" and other such warnings. He didn't know for sure what was in them, but he'd heard a rumor that this was a place that had been maintained for over two hundred and fifty years after the Cold War, to "be prepared." You know, just in case the United States had to bomb the shit out of Russia./span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Judging from that, he was pretty sure he was in a warehouse full of old, unstable explosives, which was just perfect. He'd wanted another factor that could get him horribly killed— why not this? /span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"He needed to focus. This mission was life or death— he knew that only one of them would leave this encounter alive. If, of course, Taras Domashev was here in the first place. All other tips had had him in Russia, or at the very least in a Slavic country. And now, suddenly, he shows up in California?/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"California. He was so close to Pasha right now, and it both filled his heart and emptied it. He had not seen his son in since he'd left for the Academy three months ago. He had seen him him only once on a holo call before returning to this mission, going on an endless, fruitless hunt for the man that seemed set on making his life hell. Being so close now made him feel a bit lighter./span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Of course, Domashev being here meant that he'd figured out where Pavel had gone, and that he was going to carry out the threat from so long ago. That was why he emneeded /emto succeed. For Pasha's sake. And yet, despite this which should inspire him, he felt a cold lump of fear and doubt. /span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"A loud emclang /emechoed through the warehouse. Andrei froze, using honed instincts to approximate where it had started. The echoes made it more difficult, but he could at least tell that it was coming from the far corner of the warehouse, the only area he hadn't searched yet./span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Suddenly, there was crackling of static as a speaker system went online. emJesus Christ, he's a talker. /emAndrei thought. Every so often you got one who loved to chat, and fulfilled the movie stereotype perfectly. Unfortunately, they rarely revealed their evil plans to the hero. They were usually drug lords or heads of human trafficking rings, and their evil plots were fairly straightforward./span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Then you got the occasional mad terrorist who quite simply wanted to take the Russian government and every person involved with it off the map. Actually, this was the first the New Russian Intelligence Agency, the NRIA, had experienced for over a hundred years. And Taras Domashev was emquite /emthe terrorist. /span/p  
p class="p4"He'd killed three hundred agents in two years, three emhundred/em agents, as well as their families. In all, he'd killed over a thousand people. Andrei had been sent after him six months ago. He'd failed to kill the monster of a man, but he'd taken his left eye. A week later the NRIA received a message that, simply put, told Andrei Chekov that he was next, and his family would be slaughtered horrifically to pay for what he'd done./p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"And then Domashev vanished. It had taken him three months to track him down to this warehouse, which was full of explosives; enough to destroy the whole town around them. If Andrei was going to die, he'd make sure that the terrorist didn't kill the entire town, even if it spelled the end for him./span/p  
p class="p4"He had to. He couldn't live with himself if he didn't./p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"***/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Hikaru Sulu was in a state of semi-shock. Somehow, Pavel Chekov, the thirteen-year-old Russian whiz kid, had managed to break down one of his grandmother's steel-hard walls after only knowing her a few hours. How had he managed to do something in a matter of hours that he hadn't been able to do for years?/span/p  
p class="p4"Needless to say, he was a little distracted as he led Pavel around the farm. "It, um, it used to be bigger. When I was little it had twice the acres it does now. It's hard to keep small farms like this running with all the big corporations, you know? This is the barn."/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"The barn was extremely old, dating from the 21st century. The wood— real wood— was rotting and starting to collapse. It was a miracle it had survived so long, and despite the dangers of even walking into the barn, Hikaru loved it. He had fond memories of playing in the thing. /span/p  
p class="p4"He was driven from his thoughts by Pavel's voice. "Ees wery old."/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""Yeah, 21st century, I think. We don't have any animals in here anymore, not livestock or horses anyway. Just some barn cats, and some rats and mice. We'll probably have to knock it down in a couple years, it's falling apart." He said./span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Pavel perked up at the mention of cats. "Cats? Zhere are cats? Cen I see zem?"/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Hikaru blinked. "Well, sure. I dunno if there are any kittens since I've been gone, but Roxanne and Krispy Kreme should be in there at least."/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""Kreespee Kreme?" Pavel said in a confused voice./span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""Yeah, the donut company, you know. We go there sometimes on weekends." Hikaru said, slightly confused that his friend didn't understand the name of his beloved cat./span/p  
p class="p4"Pav snorted. "No, vhy ees ze emcat/em called Kreespee Kreme?"/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Hikaru shrugged. "One time I bought a box and brought it into the barn. He snuck up on me and took the entire box without me noticing. One moment I have half a dozen, and the next… poof."/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""Ah. End so—"/span/p  
p class="p4""We called him Krispy Kreme. He's settled down a bit now he has Roxanne, but that cat would kill for a good donut." Sulu said fondly. Krispy Kreme had been his house cat before Roxanne had turned up and he'd migrated permanently to the barn. The two cats (and their many kittens) were the main reason they hadn't demolished the barn yet; they loved it too much to go into the house while it was still up./p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Pavel smiled. "Ve newer had any pets. My fazher ees eelleegeec. Ach, I mean allergeec. English ees wery hard for my mouth."/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""You'll get better at it, I'm sure." Privately, he hoped the boy would never fully lose his accent. It was endearing, and it made him smile./span/p  
p class="p4""I hope so." Pavel sighed./p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Hikaru opened the latch on the barn door (not that it did much) and pulled the large doors open. He smiled at the familar musty scent of hay and rotting wood. "Roxy, Kreme, where are you?"/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Silence at first. And then a soft "Meow?" Came from the crumbling loft. A moment later, two cats jumped down, landing (of course) on their feet. One was large, with grey tabby fur and nicked ears. The other was a small tortiseshell with pretty markings that were stained with dirt. /span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""That's Roxy," he pointed to the tortiseshell, "and that's Kreme." He pointed to the tabby. /span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Chekov smiled widely, and took a tentative step forward. When he spoke, it was in a soothing stream of Russian. strong"Hello, kitties. Don't be afraid, Pasha won't hurt you. I like cats, they are very smart. I'm sure you agree with me."/strong/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""What are you saying to them?" Hikaru asked with a little smile. He rarely heard the boy speak in his native tongue, but he'd always loved it when he did. It sounded right on his tongue, far more than English ever had. /span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""Nozhing, really. Just zat I'm not going to hurt zem." He said. Roxy, always the more trusting of the two, leaned forward and rubbed against his hand. The boy's face broke into a wide grin. "I haf newer pet a cat before."/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Roxy purred loudly and placed her tiny paws on Pavel's chest. Krispy Kreme, apparently deciding that this boy who spoke the strange language was alright after all, rubbed against his legs. Hikaru noted that Pavel looked more peaceful than he had in a long time./span/p  
p class="p4"Hikaru sat down next to his best friend and pet Kreme. "So why have you never had a cat before? From what I've heard of your parents, if you asked them they'd probably get one for you, even if your dad's allergic."/p  
p class="p4""emNyet/em." Pavel said sadly. "I asked zem once, end zey said no. Somezing about ze responsibeelity of an animal vhen zey already had to vorry about emmy /emsafety. I told zem I vasn't een eny danger, but zey steel said no."/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Hikaru frowned. It seemed very out of character for the parents he'd heard so many stories about from the boy, and much more like the strange, distraught mother in that last holo call. "If we could have pets in the dorm room, I'd get you one myself, but I've already checked. Illegal, unfortunately."/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""Ve could hide eet." Pav suggested mischievously. Hikaru could tell that he was joking, but he decided to go along with the idea./span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""Oh, yeah, we'd train it to go in the toilet, and hide the food bowls under your bed."/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Pav frowned. "emMy /embed?"/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"He grinned wickedly. "Well, you're the one who wants the cat."/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""emYou/em are ze one who asked ze authoreetees!"/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""Because I thought emyou/em would like one!"/span/p  
p class="p4""I emvould /emlike one!"/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""Then what's the problem?" Hikaru said, grinning widely. Pavel grinned back. The false argument had lifted both their spirits, and now the two of them felt relaxed and happy, their thoughts filled with the wonderful adventures an illegal cat in their dorm room could lead to. /span/p  
p class="p4""Just eemageen…" Said Pavel with a grin. "Kirk comes ower end zhen he sees zis cat just seeting zere, end he ees like 'vhy ees zere a cat?' end zen eet chases heem out." The scenario was ridiculous, but the thought of Jim Kirk, the cocky ladies' man from Iowa, being chased by a cat was enough to make them both laugh a little./p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"They sat there for a while, simply petting the two cats, until Pavel looked around. "Vhat time are ve supposed to go back for ze deenner?"/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""About now, actually." He said, getting to his feet reluctantly. He held out his hand to help the Russian up. He took it, and then the two brushed off the straw, dirt, and cat hair that coated their once clean clothes. "I'm sure Grandmother's cooked something amazing. She's a much better cook than I am."/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Pavel smirked. "Karu, emI/em am a better cook zhan you end I haf newer cooked."/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""Now, that's not fair." He protested. Sure, he was a truly awful cook, but that wasn't his fault. He emdid /emtry hard, but everything just seemed to always go horribly wrong when he was in the kitchen. The exploding microwave thing was an example. He'd gotten in big trouble once the authorities had finally found out, and he wasn't even allowed to use the new microwave this time./span/p  
p class="p4"Pavel simply smirked./p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"***/span/p  
p class="p4"strongem"You still haven't found me? Honestly, I'm a little offended. If I didn't know better, I'd say your heart wasn't in it, and it's no fun to kill someone who just wants to go home, is it?" /em/strong The voice sounded over the intercomm, a crackling, barely-understandable voice, but clearly that of Taras Domashev./p  
p class="p4"So he emwas /emhere. Andrei narrowed his eyes. strong"Where are you?" /strongHe shouted loudly, betraying every rule the Agency had ever given him. emBe silent/em, they had said. emNever purposly reveal your location. /emWell, sometimes revealing your location was the only way. strong"Where are you, you bastard?"/strong/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"strongem"Oh, Andrei, such hatred for me. Now I'm even /emmore emoffended. What did I ever do to you?"/em/strong/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"strong"You threatened my family." /strongAndrei said furiously. strong"You threatened to kill them, and you killed hundreds of people."/strong/span/p  
p class="p4"The speaker crackled with static. When Domashev spoke again, his voice was more clear. strongem"Yes, I suppose I did, didn't I? But really, I never did anything to you personally. Why did you have to take my eye? I liked it. If you hadn't taken it, I might've even given up the whole business… but instead, I'm going to have to kill you and your family."/em/strong/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Andrei shuddered, despite the fact that this was an old threat. He'd used it in the message to the Association had received six months ago. Still, hearing it in person chilled the blood running through his veins in a way very few things did. strong"Not if I kill you first."/strong/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Domashev spoke again, but this time it wasn't on the speaker. The man's high-pitched voice was right behind him, coming from a dark area of shelves that he'd walked right by. strong"Hmm. I guess we'll see about that."/strong/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"***/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Pavel's walk back to the Sulu house was peaceful. The sun was beginning to set, casting beautiful tendrils of red, purple, and orange in the sky to combat the fading blue. He hadn't felt this happy since before he'd left Russia. The entire time at the Academy, he'd been worried about something. The bullies (who thankfully had been leaving him alone now that he always had an escort), recovering from the injuries inflicted by those bullies, his parents, then more specifically his father, maintaining his friendship with Hikaru, and trying to be the best he could among adults; he'd always been worrying. And now that the weight had inexplicably lifted, even if it was just for a while, he felt happy./span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Happiness was something he'd had in small amounts as a child. He was still a child, after all, and his entire life had been work, work, work, getting up to this point. Of course, he was so smart that he didn't have to work hard to get far ahead, but skipping years meant proving you knew those things you would miss, and that meant working on school constantly. That in turn meant very little time to play like a normal child, and little time to even embe /ema child. A nine year old in high school is expected to be far more mature than they would normally be./span/p  
p class="p4"So Pavel embraced this happiness like an old friend, despite the fact it was a relatively unfamilar feeling. He let himself smile, and he let the tension that had been in his shoulders for years leave./p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"He felt like a new person./span/p  
p class="p3"He noticed Hikaru's gaze on him, and he resisted the temptation to clam up this free feeling, and let the tension return. Pavel instead turned to his best friend and smiled broadly, letting his happiness shine out from his face./p  
p class="p4" /p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""There you are. I was worried I'd have to come find you myself." Grandmother said from the house. Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "I'm guessing it was the cats?"/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Beside him, Hikaru blinked. "How did you know?"/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Grandmother laughed. "It's always the cats, dear. Come in; dinner's ready."/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Hikaru brightened. "What are we having?"/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""Your favorite." She said with a small smile. "My homemade Miso soup."/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""Vhat ees… miso?" He asked, confused. He knew American food well, and this strange word was not among the things he'd learned./span/p  
p class="p4"Grandmother's smile quirked a little. "You've never had any traditional Japanese cuisine, I see. Hikaru, have you taught him nothing?" She scolded good-naturedly. /p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Her grandson blushed. "There's not any good Japanese places in San Francisco, Grandmother, and you know I can't cook."/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"She snorted. "I'm sure there's at least emone. /emYes, their China Town is famous, but there's got to be emsomeone/em."/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""Not that I've found." Hikaru said stubbornly. "And I wasn't going to take him somewhere bad. Then when he went here he'd be unwilling to try something, and he wouldn't find out that everything you make is delicious."/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Pavel laughed at this. "I vould like to try zees Miso myself, zhank you."/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1""But of course." Grandmother said, and she held out the bowl to him with a small smile./span/p  
p class="p4"***/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Andrei spun around and stared at the man now before him. He was short and thin, but what muscle he did have was easily visible. He had a scraggly brown beard on his face and wavy brown hair that hung down to his shoulders. His face was twisted into a sadistic grin, revealing chipped and broken teeth. His right eye was a piercing icy blue, so pale it almost seemed colorless. His left was covered by an eyepatch. /span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Domashev could have easily gotten a false eye to make himself look more natural, or even a robotic one, if he was rich enough— the technology was available, but very very expensive— but he'd always seemed like one for dramatics. Besides, the pirate-like eyepatch seemed fitting for the terrorist./span/p  
p class="p4"strong"Long time, no see, Andrei Chekov. I must admit, I did not miss you." /strongThe man's voice was unsteady, full of his mental instability. It was higher-pitched than one would expect from such a large and strong man. /p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Andrei's lips raised in a disgusted smirk. strong"I must admit, neither did I." /strong/span/p  
p class="p4"strong"Hmm." /strongTaras Domashev reached his hand into the worn navy jacket he wore. He pulled out a small wooden figurine, about three inches tall. It was hard to discern the details from a distance, but it was clearly in the shape of a child. strong"I've been wondering; why did you ever think that the Academy would be safer for your emdear /emPasha than Russia?"/strong/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Andrei felt his heart freeze. This was a topic he'd been hoping to avoid. Honestly, he should just pull out his phaser and kill the man now. But something made his hand stay limp at his side. /span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"strong"I mean," /strongDomashev continued. strong"All it did was move him thousands of miles away from where you could protect him. And really, did you think I wouldn't be watching your tearful goodbye? That I wouldn't follow him to the Academy myself?"/strong/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"His heart was now in his throat. No. It was impossible. They'd calculated the risks, and Pasha should have been safer at the Academy. Instead, he'd led the monster right to his son's closet, and now he was waiting to strike./span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Domashev suddenly threw the wooden figure at Andrei. He caught it, and turned it over, examining the features. It was expertly carved, showing a child of twelve or thirteen with a soft, sweet face, the clothes of a cadet, and unruly curls of hair. There was no question of who the figure could be. strong"I've been watching your son for three months, Andrei, waiting for you to figure it out and find me. I know his favorite haunts, I know his class schedules, I know where his room is, I know his friends and how to get rid of them…"/strong/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"strong"Why are you doing this?" /strongAndrei demanded furiously, his hands closing tightly around the image of his son. strong"Pasha has done nothing to you. Why can't you just kill me and leave him alone?"/strong/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"Taras laughed coldly. He closed the gap between them until he was only inches away from his rival's face. strong"Because, before I kill you, I want your world to be shattered. I want you to watch the light leave your son's eyes, I want you to hear the anguished screams of your wife as her mind shatters, I want you to be empty and beg for mercy before I slit your throat. And all could have been avoided, had you simply spared my eye."/strong/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"The spy let out a choked bark of slightly hysterical laughter. strong"You're insane."/strong/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"strong"Yes, I am." /strongDomashev agreed idly, snatching the figure of Pavel from Andrei's hands. strong"And now that I've got you, I'm not letting you go."/strong/span/p  
p class="p3"span class="s1"He felt his resolve harden. He was a trained agent. He had handled men like this before. Andrei Chekov drew his phaser, his heart pounding, trying not to let his hands shake as he faced the man who scared him more than any person ever had before. strong"We'll see about that."/strong/span/p  
p class="p4"He fired./p  
p class="p4" /p  
p class="p4"strongHey guys, Author here!/strong/p  
p class="p4"strongSo I got sick, and I had my birthday, and things got busy, so I only just finished chapter six. I have I think two more chapters planned, but we'll see how it goes. /strong/p  
p class="p4"strongPlease let me know what you think, I love reading your reviews!/strong/p  
p class="p4"strongThanks, guys,/strong/p  
p class="p4"strongTrellya Sigma/strong/p 


	5. Five: No Sunlight, No Sunlight Anymore

**_Five: No Sunlight, No Sunlight Anymore_**

Natalya Chekov knew the moment she received the package in the mail that her husband was almost certainly dead. The package was small, and contained only two items: a letter explaining the situation from the NRIA, and a small personal PADD that contained Andrei's last words.

She read the letter first. She couldn't handle his last words to her right now. She needed to know _how,_ needed to know if he'd succeeded.

 _Mrs. Chekov:_

 _We regret to inform you that your husband,_ ** _Andrei Nikolayevich Chekov_** _, has gone missing in the line of duty. Considering the dangerous nature of his mission, he is assumed dead until information is received that changes that assumption. No rescue mission will be attempted until his location (if alive) is deduced. We cannot tell you what he did, as it is dangerous and potentially affects you._

 _As a courtesy, we have included the PADD of his final words, in hope that they will help you find some semblance of peace in this difficult time._

 _The New Russian Intelligence Agency hopes that you will come to peace with his loss, and that_ ** _Andrei Nikolayevich_** _will live on through his son._

 _Sincerely,_

 ** _Piotr Melnikof_**

 _Head of New Russian Intelligence Agency_

Natalya reread the same phrase over and over. _Missing in the line of duty, missing in the line of duty._ So he wasn't dead, then. Not officially, at least. She knew in her heart that he lived still, but she was unsure of whether that was a good thing. Who knew what sorts of horrific torture that beast, Domashev, would put him through.

She turned to the PADD hesitantly. Should she watch it?

Yes, she decided. Andrei would have wanted her to. She turned it on with shaking fingers, and a dark screen popped up that gave her two options, one written in red, one written in green.

 **Delete Message?**

 **Watch Message?**

She clicked 'Watch Message,' and an instant later her husband's face filled the screen. ****

 ** _"Hello, love."_** Instantly her eyes filled with tears. The first words of his goodbye were a greeting to her? ****

 ** _"Hello, Pasha, if you ever watch this."_** Pasha. She hadn't even thought about him yet. She'd have to tell him what happened. She'd have to tell him everything. The thought made her stomach sour, but she knew that she must. He deserved to know, and they _had_ agreed that if Andrei was ever killed or captured, that he'd be informed. ****

 ** _"If this has reached you, it means that I have failed to eliminate the threat. It means that the threat— that he's killed me."_** He hadn't even considered that he'd be captured. Of course not. Andrei was a man who hated failure, and being captured was, to him, a form of failure.

 ** _"Of course I hope that when I get out I can simply delete this, just as I've done with every other mission I've gone on, but something tells me that this might be the last time I say goodbye."_** Oh. He'd done this before, she realized, feeling something sink in her stomach. Every time he'd gone on a mission, he'd said goodbye, just in case. He hadn't told her, and honestly she hadn't wanted to be informed.

 ** _"I love you, Natalya. I know you can't believe it sometimes, and I know that this will be hard for you, but I love you more than I've ever loved anyone. Please, for me, don't let yourself collapse. I want you to be a very old woman when I see you again."_** He was joking at the end, trying to lighten the mood, not bothering to hide the tears in his eyes. Natalya stared at the screen, and paused it. He loved her. She knew that, of course, but to hear it as one of the things he deemed important enough to tell her was unbelievable. She didn't deserve his love; she never had. Swallowing, Natalya pressed start on the video again.

 ** _"Pasha… My beautiful boy. I know you will hate me for lying to you, for being selfish. But please understand, I just wanted for you to be happy. That is all I ever wanted. So don't lock yourself away. Let your friends from the Academy help you, Pasha, let them into your hurting heart. I know it's going to be hard, you're my son, after all, but I believe that you can. You can do anything if you try hard enough. And… and please help your mother. Don't let her shut herself away. She needs you, more than you know."_**

This was true. She did need Pasha. He was her other pillar. How she hadn't collapsed with grief at losing Andrei yet she did not know, but if she lost Pavel she'd have nothing left to live for. On the screen, Andrei's eyes were filling with tears. **_"I love you, Pasha. I love you, Natalya. Never forget that."_**

 **"Never, my love."** She whispered, reaching her fingers to the screen, longing to touch his warm cheek and make everything better again.

He leaned forward and reached out his hand to stop recording. Then he paused, and winked. **_"I'll see how it looks over there on the other side, eh?"_**

Natalia Chekov let out a soft, watery chuckle as the message finished playing. She stared at the words on the screen ( **Replay Message? Delete Message?** ) with an unreadable expression. Then she closed the PADD, let her face fall into her hands, and burst into tears.

The Christmas Break Pavel spent at the Sulus' was one of the best times of his life. He got to wander the snowy farm, play with the cats, and eat the delicious Japanese food cooked by Grandmother. He watched as slowly Hikaru's relationship with his grandmother approved. He watched as she let down her steel walls and let her grandson into her heart for the first time since his grandfather's death seven years earlier.

On Christmas Day, there was only one present for each of them. Hikaru opened his and found a fine teapot, two tea cups, and some loose leaf teas, his favorite kinds. Pavel opened his and found a kitten.

An honest-to-goodness kitten with big green eyes and a grey tabby pattern on her fur. He stared at the little grey tabby in shock. "But–"

"I talked to the authorities, and since you're so young, they decided having a pet might aid you in your education. I have a litter box somewhere, and Hikaru knows how to take care of a cat." Grandmother explained.

Hikaru smiled at his grandmother. "Is that from Roxy's and Kreme's last litter?"

"Yes. I gave the others away, as usual, but this one… something told me to keep her." Grandmother glanced fondly at Pavel, her wrinkled face pinched into a smile. He was holding the little kitten now, and she was purring contentedly in his arms.

"What are you going to name her?" Karu asked, reaching his hand out to pet the little creature.

The kitten purred harder, its golden-green eyes closed. "I do not know yet… Somezhing Russian, probably."

"She's so little." Hikaru said, looking at the tiny paws.

"Malishka." Said Pavel suddenly. He knew instantly that it was the perfect name for her.

"What?"

"Malishka." He repeated. "Roughly, means 'Leetle one' een Russian."

Malishka meowed and patted Pavel's nose with her tiny paw. It seemed she approved of his choice. Hikaru smirked as she began to knead her claws in his lap, making the boy wince. "I think she likes it." He commented.

"I theenk so too." Pav laughed, gently lifting the kitten off his lap. She mewed in protest, and stretched luxuriously, before making her way to Hikaru, sniffing him curiously.

The atmosphere was relaxed and happy as Pavel played with his new kitten. He'd always wanted a pet, especially a cat, but he'd given up after several years' fruitless pleading. And now Grandmother, a woman he'd known only a few days, had given him one.

"Thenk you for her, Grandmozher. I em wery grateful." He said, smiling at Malishka, who was now sleeping next to him, her tiny chest moving in and out slowly as she slept.

Grandmother laughed. "You're such a dear child; it was the least I could do. Besides," she said in a softer, more melancholy tone, "you remind me of my son. Hikaru's father. He was brilliant, and very determined. And… he never got what he truly deserved."

"End… vhat vas zhat?" Pavel asked quietly, stroking the soft fur.

"Happiness, and a long, properous life." Grandmother said, staring at the cat with strangely soft eyes.

Hikaru had a strange look on his face at the mention of his father. "I am wery sorry for your loss."

Grandmother visibly shook herself, and smiled wryly. Her walls came back up. "It's alright. It was many years ago."

Suddenly, Pavel's PADD rang from beside him. He frowned. He hadn't gotten a call for two months, so why would someone call him now? He glanced at the screen, and paled. It read, in Russian, **'Mama.'** Why was Mama calling him _now?_ Had Papa been found? Was he hurt? Was he—

"Pav, you okay?"

Pavel snapped out of his reverie. "Da. Yes. I em… fine, I em fine. Ees just… Mama ees calling me."

Hikaru frowned and straightened. "What? I thought she said she wouldn't call."

"So deed I." Pavel got to his feet, feeling dizzy with confusion. "I… excuse me." He picked up the PADD. This conversation was going to be a private one.

He went into his and Hikaru's shared room and shut the door. He clicked 'Accept' on the PADD and waited in anticipation. His mother's image appeared on the screen. She looked awful. Her hair was dirty, her makeup streaked, and there was a hollow, slightly dead look in her eyes that frightened him.

 **"Mama."** He said with a gasp. **"What's wrong? What happened? You said not to call, so why—"**

 **"I have something very important to tell you, Pasha."** She interrupted, her eyes glittering with tears. **"Something we should have told you a long time ago."**

 **"Mama, I don't understand—"**

She shook her head. **"Please, Pasha. Listen to me. Twenty-five years ago, when your father was only twenty, he was contacted by the New Russian Intelligence Agency."** Pavel's eyes widened. He'd heard of the NRIA, or the Agency, as it was called by the general population. It was some sort of spy agency, one that worked to protect the people and culture of Russia, one of the few countries not united under the Federation. Sure, it was _allied_ with the Federation, but Russia had made it clear they wanted to be different. Suddenly his mother's words clicked. His father was a spy? **"They were impressed with his exam scores, and thought he'd make a good field agent. He underwent five brutal years of training, at the end of which he met me. Once he became a full agent, he told me the truth."**

 **"So his business trips—"**

 **"They were missions, yes."** His mother said. **"That is why I was always so worried. I… I never knew if he'd come home."**

Pavel's face drained of all color. Suddenly, he understood why his mother had broken her silence. **"He's dead, isn't he? Papa's dead."**

Natalya Chekov laughed, tears evident in her voice. **"Missing in the line of duty, they said. He's presumed dead, unless he randomly shows up on our doorstep. They're not sending any rescue teams. He…"** She paused, and looked down at her hands. He could tell the words she was about to say would cause her physical pain. **"He left us a goodbye message. I'm sending it to you now. I can't… I can't watch it again."**

Pavel's eyes filled with tears. Had he been calm and happy only minutes ago? Now his father was almost certainly dead, and he'd lost everything. **"Mama…"**

 **"Come back to Russia."** She pleaded. **"Just until break's over. We can figure out what to do, now that he's… gone."**

He nodded. He had no choice, even if he'd wanted another one, which he didn't. His mother was unstable, and she'd need his presence to soothe her grief. **"Of course, Mama. I'll catch the next shuttle, I promise."**

 **"I can't lose you too, Pasha. I can't."** Her voice was desperate and tight with fear. Pavel's heart ached. He wished he knew how to fix everything, but how could he? He was just a thirteen-year-old kid.

He felt like he should promise that she wouldn't lose him, but something stopped him. Instead, he smiled. **"I'll do my best to stay."** And he would. But he wouldn't make a promise he couldn't keep.

His mother seemed to hear his train of thought. **"You're so like your father. He would have said the same thing."**

 **"I love you, Mama. Never forget that."** He felt odd, saying something that she'd always told him.

She chuckled, her eyes filled with tears. **"Always, Pasha."** And then she hung up.

Pavel stared at the blank screen of the PADD. He felt numb, like his heart had been brutally ripped from his chest and then stomped into the dirt. His hands were shaking violently, and he felt the PADD fall from his hands onto the ground. Thankfully, it didn't break, but he felt incredibly dizzy… and sick.

He got up and sprinted to the bathroom. On the way he passed Hikaru. His friend opened his mouth to ask what had happened, but then Pavel had run into the bathroom, and he was vomiting into the toilet.

"Jesus Christ." Hikaru gasped, now in the bathroom too and noting his reaction. "What happened?"

Pavel didn't reply. He couldn't. Even if he could speak, he couldn't seem to form the words in English. His mind was running his mother's words over and over, and he couldn't seem to really grasp that his father— Papa, the man who he'd wanted to be like his entire life— had been captured, and probably _killed_ on some suicide spy mission. _Papa._

He vomited again.

"Ah, shit." Hikaru said. He got down on his knees beside the boy, and rubbed his back slightly awkwardly. "That bad, huh?"

Pavel suddenly felt much better. He knew he wasn't going to throw up again. "Vater, please. Ze taste ees… horrible."

"Yeah. Yeah, sure." He heard Hikaru get to his feet and grab a cup from beside the sink. The faucet turned on, then off, and a moment later a small cup of water was being placed in one of his hands.

He took a sip, swished, then spat it into the toilet. He wasn't swallowing _that._ Then he turned to Karu, and smiled weakly. "Zhank you."

"What did she say?" He simply said.

Pavel winced, and looked down at the tiny cup. He took another sip. "My mozher called to tell me to fly to Russia es soon es ees possible."

"So your father came back?" Hikaru said with a smile.

He shook his head. "Meesing een ze line off duty. Presumed dead. She… she needs me zhere to help deal weeth eet."

"Oh." Sulu reached out a hand and gripped his shoulder. "I'm really sorry, Pav. Really. I—" He hesitated. "Are you coming back?"

He shrugged miserably. "I do not know. I vant to stay, but I must take care of Mama. She ees unstable een times like zeese."

"Well, if you do come back, Malishka and I will be waiting for you, okay? And… don't feel like you have to come back because of me. If you need to stay with your mother, you stay with her, understand?" Hikaru said seriously. Pavel nodded, his eyes filled with tears for the first time. It still seemed so impossible, so horrible.

" _Da_. But… eef eet ees et all possible for me to come back, I vill." Pavel said earnestly. His eyes were bright with all sorts of emotions; sadness, confusion, fear… "I do not vant to abenden my best friend."

Hikaru smiled sadly. "So you need to get to the shuttle station, then?"

" _Da_."

"I'll take you there, and I'll bring Grandmother. She'll want to say goodbye, too." Hikaru had an odd expression on his face. He looked like everyone was about to abandon him.

Pavel grabbed his best friend's arm. "Karu. I _vill_ come back. Eet may take a vhile, but I vill."

Hikaru laughed dryly. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Pav."

Once again Pavel found himself in a tearful goodbye. This time, he'd be returning to Russia for the forseeable future. Back to his home, without his father and with a mother who was emotionally unstable, especially in difficult times.

"Go. They won't wait very long." Hikaru said, gently pushing him toward the shuttle. It was clear he was trying to stay strong, to pretend that the thirteen year old's departure wasn't going to have an enormous effect on him.

Pavel hesitated. He noticed the fears and feelings his friend was experiencing, and knew that he could do nothing to abate them. Then he felt something entirely different. "You vill be alright? End… you von't geeve up my bed or anyzing?" His own insecurities about being abandoned were coming to the surface now, and he found himself wincing at the childish words.

"Not unless you tell me to." Promised the young man with a sad smile. Pavel knew instinctively that this was true, and the fear in his chest lessened a bit.

Despit this, tears pricked in his eyes. "I vill meess you. I vill call, _da_?"

"Yeah. You do that." Hikaru sounded distant, but Pavel understood. Sometimes pretending you didn't care was the only way not to break down.

"End I _vill_ come back, I von't abandon you." He said earnestly, trying to express the sincerity of what he was saying.

"I know you won't." Hikaru admitted quietly, his own eyes now swimming with tears. He hesitated, and then hugged the boy tightly. "Be safe, you hear?"

"Alvays." Pavel promised, before turning and running onto the shuttle.

Hikaru watched sadly as it flew away. Beside him, Grandmother stared too. "I liked that boy. I hope he comes back. He's good for you."

"I hope so too, Grandmother." Hikaru said, staring at the shrinking shuttle with a sinking feeling.

Andrei Chekov wasn't sure how long he was out when he woke. He also wasn't entirely sure what had happened. Mentally, he went through the last hours he remembered. He'd gone into the warehouse and began to search the maze-like corridors for the monster of a man. He'd found him— or, rather, Domashev had— and he'd said how his entire family would die. Andrei had mustered all his bravery, and…The last thing he remembered was shooting at Domashev. And then, curiously, everything had gone black.

 **"Ah, the princess is awake. How are you feeling, Andrei?"** It was Domashev, his high-pitched unstable voice right by his left ear. Andrei winced instinctively, and his eyes shot open.

He was no longer in the warehouse. Instead, he was in what appeared to be an apartment that had belonged to an old woman. The furniture was old fashioned, the paintings on the walls ugly and of strange landscapes. The kitchen was old, with replicators so poorly cleaned he doubted they even worked. In the corner of his eye, in the living room, he noticed a small, crumpled, bloody body and shuddered.

 **"Don't mind Mrs. Simmons."** Said Taras, twirling a knife in his fingers. **"She won't bother you."**

 **"You're insane."** Andrei hissed. His voice was hoarse from not using it. How long _had_ he been out?

Taras sat down heavily in the chair next to where Andrei was tied. **"You say it like it's a bad thing. Really, all madness does is make life more… interesting."** His breath smelled, for the lack of a better word, like blood. It was metallic-smelling, and so warm it made Andrei want to vomit. **"Aren't you wondering how you got here?"**

Andrei stared at the opposite wall of the apartment, his jaw clenched. He couldn't show weakness to this man. If he did, he'd be long gone before any help came, _if_ any help came. Don't look at Domashev. Don't look at Mrs. Simmons in the corner with her body split open and the blood on the walls. Don't look at Domashev. Don't look, don't look…

 **"Nanobots."** Domashev said with a grin, getting to his feet. **"Tiny robots in the air that got into your phaser and sabatoged it. I've been working on them for years, but even after I got them to work, no one before you was** ** _stupid_** **enough to shoot at me. Honestly, I'd forgotten that I** ** _had_** **gotten them to work. Impressed?"**

The spy glared at the far wall. Don't look. Don't look. **"Why would I?"**

 **"Because those bots made your phaser fire on** ** _you_** **. You're lucky you had your phaser set to stun, or you'd be a billion tiny atoms right now."** Taras said cheerfully.

Andrei broke his stare at the painting of the waterfall on the opposite wall and looked down at his lap instead. His hands were tied behind his back, probably with a fine polyester rope that was incredibly strong and caused sores, and his legs had the uncomfortable tingling feeling you got after being tied up for a long period of time. **"How long have I been out?"**

 **"Only three days. It took two to safely get here and get rid of the occupant. I must say, thought, I'm a tiny bit impressed, I thought you'd be out for at least a week."** Taras spun the knife once more in his fingers, and paused. He seemed to be thinking, but what Andrei couldn't even begin to guess— and then Domashev swung the knife down into Andrei's left leg.

He wasn't expecting to be tortured. If he'd been expecting it, he wouldn't have made a sound. The pain was searing, and he couldn't stop the cry that left his lips. To his shock, Taras Domashev actually _giggled._

 **"Not as tough as you like to believe, are you?"** He said, removing the knife with ease. Blood was everywhere, but he hadn't gotten any major arteries. If he had, Andrei would have been dead in seconds. He seemed perfectly calm, and Andrei let his head fall to his chest. He took deep breaths, urging himself to relax, to steady his breathing, to stay calm.

After a few minutes, he looked up, his eyes hard, the pain somehow keeping his mind focused. **"So what's your next move? Are you going after Natalya? Or Pasha? What's next in your brilliant master plan for revenge?"** His voice was strong, not shaking.

Domashev frowned angrily, his eyebrows wrinkled in anger and confusion. **"Why should I tell** ** _you_** **?"**

 **"I'm not going anywhere, am I? Not while tied to a chair with a knife wound in my leg."** Andrei countered. Although he knew it would only torture him, he needed to know. He needed to know who he'd see first, who he'd try to save.

Taras paused, considering. He began spinning his knife once more, muttering to himself so quietly that he couldn't understand what he was saying. He walked over to where the mutilated body of Mrs. Simmons lay in a pool of drying blood. **"What do you think? Does he deserve to know?"** He stopped, and leaned forward, as though listening to words she was saying. He nodded, and hummed in consideration **"What's that?"** He 'listened' more, looking even more interested in the imaginary words. **"You think it will torture him? Well, then, that's decided, isn't it."** He straightened, and fixed Andrei with an insane glare.

Andrei found himself staring into the insane eyes of the man as he drew closer tp where he'd been tied. He suddenly became very aware of the raw skin on his wrists from where the rope had been tied, the agony of the wound in his leg, the aching hunger running through his body.

Taras leaned forward and whispered poisonous words in his ear. He could have shouted them, but the snake-like way he said them made the drop of Andrei's stomach even more pronounced.

 **"You don't know that those circumstances will happen, there are a thousand other ways everything could go."** Andrei said quickly, more as a reassurance to himself than a jab at the terrorist standing beside him.

Domashev laughed, and it was a chilling sound. **"I don't know, Andrei. Tell me; are there?"**

And in that moment, Andrei Chekov realized he and his family were all going to die. He stopped caring about staying strong— how could he when they'd all be murdered anyway? And he wept.

 **Hey guys, Author here!**

 **So I have resigned myself to the fact that I won't finish the story before the end of the school year unless a miracle happens.**

 **If that miracle happens, then all eight chapters will be uploaded by June 1st, the last day I have with my computer.**

 **If it does NOT, then I will have all completed chapters uploaded by June 1st.**

 **Six is complete, and seven has been started, but I don't know if I'll finish it, let alone eight.**

 **Sorry, but my life is really crazy right now, (I'M SEEING DAN AND PHIL TOMORROW FOR ONE) and it's hard to just sit down and write for a long time, which is what I need to write the end of this fic well.**

 **Thanks for your patience, and please tell me what your think,**

 **Trellya**


End file.
